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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


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7 


LEGENDS   OF   FLORENCE 


WORKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


HANS  BREITMANN'S  BALLADS. 
KEGAN  PAUL,  TRENCH,  TRUBNER,  &  Co.  LTD.    35.  6d. 


HANS  BREITMANN  IN  GERMANY  (Tyrol).    Now  in  press. 
T.  FISHER  UNWIN. 


SONGS  OF  THE  SEA  AND  LAYS  OF  THE  LAND. 

A.  &  C.  BLACK. 


THE  ALGONQUIN  LEGENDS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

SAMPSON  Low  &  Co. 


THE  GYPSIES.    BOSTON:  HOUGHTON  &  MIFFLIN. 


THE  ENGLISH  GYPSIES  AND  THEIR  LANGUAGE. 

KEGAN  PAUL,  TRENCH,  TRUBNER,  &  Co.  LTD. 

GYPSY  BALLADS  (with  Vocabulary). 

KEGAN  PAUL,  TRENCH,  TRUBNER,  &  Co.  LTD. 


ETRUSCAN-ROMAN  LEGENDS  IN  POPULAR  TRADITION. 

T.  FISHER  UNWIN.     TOS. 


GYPSY  SORCERY.    T.  FISHER  UNWIN.     ios. 


PIDGIN-ENGLISH  SING-SONG  (with  Vocabulary). 

KEGAN  PAUL,  TRENCH,  TRXTBNER,  &  Co.  LTD. 


PRACTICAL  EDUCATION.    WHITTAKER  &  Co. 


MANUALS  OF  WOOD  CARVING,  METAL-WORK,  DESIGN, 

LEATHER- WORK.    WHITTAKER  &  Co. 

(These  works  have  been   warmly  commended  as  best  of  their 
ind  by  many 
Great  Britain.) 


kind  by  many  of  the  most  distinguished  artists  and  teachers  in 
Bri 


TRANSLATION  OF  HEINE'S  WORKS.    WM.  HEINEMANN. 

MEMOIRS.    WM.  HEINEMANN. 


3Ugenti0  of  dttorence 

Collected  from  t&e  people 

And  Re-told 

by 

Charles  Qodfrey  Leland 

(Hans  Breitmami) 


NEW   YORK 
MACMILLAN  AND    CO 

1895 


Printed  by  BALLANTYNE,  HANSON  &  Co. 
At  the  Ballantyne  Press 


PREFACE 

THIS  book  consists  almost  entirely  of  legends  or  tradi- 
tions of  a  varied  character,  referring  to  places  and  buildings 
in  Florence,  such  as  the  Cathedral  and  Campanile,  the 
Signoria,  the  Bargello,  the  different  city  gates,  ancient 
towers  and  bridges,  palaces,  crosses,  and  fountains,  noted 
corners,  odd  by-ways,  and  many  churches.  To  all  of 
these  there  are  tales,  or  at  least  anecdotes  attached,  which 
will  be  found  as  entertaining  to  the  general  reader  as 
they  will  be  interesting,  not  to  say  valuable,  to  the  folk- 
lorist  and  the  student  of  social  history ;  but  here  I  must 
leave  the  work  to  speak  for  itself. 

I  originally  intended  that  this  should  be  entirely  a 
collection  of  relics  of  ancient  mythology,  with  supersti- 
tions and  sorceries,  witchcraft  and  incantations,  or  what 
may  be  called  occult  folk-lore,  of  which  my  work  on 
"  Etruscan- Roman  Remains  in  Popular  Tradition  "  con- 
sists, and  of  which  I  have  enough  additional  material  to 
make  a  large  volume.  But  having  resolved  to  add  to  it 
local  legends,  and  give  them  the  preference,  I  found  that 
the  latter  so  abounded,  and  were  so  easily  collected  by  an 
expert,  that  I  was  obliged  to  cast  out  my  occult  folk-lore, 
piece  by  piece,  if  I  ever  hoped  to  get  into  the  port  of 
publication,  according  to  terms  with  the  underwriters, 
following  the  principle  laid  down  by  the  illustrious  Poggio, 

M97884 


vi  PREFACE 

that  in  a  storm  the  heaviest  things  must  go  overboard 
first,  he  illustrating  the  idea  with  the  story  of  the  Flor- 
entine, who,  having  heard  this  from  the  captain  when  at 
sea  in  a  tempest,  at  once  threw  his  wife  into  the  raging 
billows — -perche  non  haveva  cosa  piu  grave  di  lei — because 
there  was  nought  on  earth  which  weighed  on  him  so 
heavily. 

There  are  several  very  excellent  and  pleasant  works  on 
Old  Florence,  such  as  that  portion  devoted  to  it  in  the 
"  Cities  of  Central  Italy,"  by  A.  J.  C.  Hare;  the  "  Walks 
about  Florence,"  by  the  Sisters  Horner;  "  Florentine 
Life,"  by  Scaife;  and  the  more  recent  and  admirable 
book  by  Leader  Scott,  which  are  all — I  say  it  advisedly — 
indispensable  for  those  who  would  really  know  something 
about  a  place  which  is  unusually  opulent  in  ancient,  ad- 
venturous, or  artistic  associations.  My  book  is,  however, 
entirely  different  from  these,  and  all  which  are  exclusively 
taken  from  authentic  records  and  books.  My  tales  are, 
with  a  few  exceptions,  derived  directly  or  indirectly 
from  the  people  themselves — having  been  recorded  in 
the  local  dialect — the  exceptions  being  a  few  anecdotes 
racy  of  the  soil,  taken  from  antique  jest-books  and  such 
bygone  halfpenny  literature  as  belonged  to  the  multi- 
tude, and  had  its  origin  among  them.  These  I  could 
not,  indeed,  well  omit,  as  they  every  one  refer  to  some 
peculiar  place  in  Florence.  To  these  I  must  add  several 
which  remained  obscurely  in  my  memory,  but  which  I 
did  not  record  at  the  time  of  hearing  or  reading,  not 
having  then  the  intention  of  publishing  such  a  book. 

It  has  been  well  observed  by  Wordsworth  that  minor 
local  legends  sink  more  deeply  into  the  soul  than  greater 


PREFACE  vii 

histories,  as  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  romantic  folk-lore 
spreads  far  and  wide  over  the  world,  completely  dis- 
tancing in  the  race  the  records  of  mighty  men  and  their 
deeds.  The  magic  of  Washington  Irving  has  cast  over 
the  Catskills  and  the  Hudson,  by  means  of  such  tales, 
an  indescribable  fascination,  even  as  Scott  made  of  all 
Scotland  a  fairyland ;  for  it  is  indisputable  that  a  strange 
story,  or  one  of  wild  or  quaint  adventure,  or  even  of 
humour,  goes  further  to  fix  a  place  in  our  memory  than 
anything  else  can  do.  Therefore  I  have  great  hope  that 
these  fairy-tales  of  Florence,  and  strange  fables  of  its 
fountains,  palaces,  and  public  places — as  they  are  truly 
gathered  from  old  wives,  and  bear  in  themselves  un- 
mistakable evidences  of  antiquity  —  will  be  of  real 
use  in  impressing  on  many  memories  much  which  is 
worth  retaining,  and  which  would  otherwise  have  been 
forgotten. 

The  manner  in  which  these  stories  were  collected  was 
as  follows  : — In  the  year  1886  I  made  the  acquaintance 
in  Florence  of  a  woman  who  was  not  only  skilled  in 
fortune-telling,  but  who  inherited  as  a  family  gift  from 
generations,  skill  in  witchcraft — that  is,  a  knowledge  of 
mystical  cures,  the  relieving  people  who  were  bewitched, 
the  making  amulets,  and  who  had  withal  a  memory  stocked 
with  a  literally  incredible  number  of  tales  and  names  of 
spirits,  with  the  invocations  to  them,  and  strange  rites 
and  charms.  She  was  a  native  of  the  Romagna  Toscana, 
where  there  still  lurks  in  the  recesses  of  the  mountains 
much  antique  Etrusco-Roman  heathenism,  though  it  is 
disappearing  very  rapidly.  Maddalena — such  was  her 
name — soon  began  to  communicate  to  me  all  her  lore. 


viii  PREFACE 

She  could  read  and  write,  but  beyond  this  never  gave  the 
least  indication  of  having  opened  a  book  of  any  kind; 
albeit  she  had  an  immense  library  of  folk-lore  in  her 
brain.  When  she  could  not  recall  a  tale  or  incantation, 
she  would  go  about  among  her  extensive  number  of 
friends,  and  being  perfectly  familiar  with  every  dialect, 
whether  Neapolitan,  Bolognese,  Florentine,  or  Venetian, 
and  the  ways  and  manners  of  the  poor,  and  especially  of 
witches,  who  are  the  great  repositories  of  legends,  became 
in  time  wonderfully  well  skilled  as  a  collector.  Now,  as 
the  proverb  says,  "  Take  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief,"  so  I 
found  that  to  take  a  witch  to  catch  witches,  or  detect  their 
secrets,  was  an  infallible  means  to  acquire  the  arcana  of 
sorcery.  It  was  in  this  manner  that  I  gathered  a  great 
part  of  the  lore  given  in  my  "  Etruscan-Roman  Remains." 
I  however  collected  enough,  in  all  conscience,  from  other 
sources,  and  verified  it  all  sufficiently  from  classic  writers, 
to  fully  test  the  honesty  of  my  authorities. 

The  witches  in  Italy  form  a  class  who  are  the  reposi- 
tories of  all  the  folk-lore ;  but,  what  is  not  at  all  generally 
known,  they  also  keep  as  strict  secrets  an  immense  number 
of  legends  of  their  own,  which  have  nothing  in  common 
with  the  nursery  or  popular  tales,  such  as  are  commonly 
collected  and  published.  The  real  witch-story  is  very  often 
only  a  frame,  so  to  speak,  the  real  picture  within  it  being 
the  arcanum  of  a  long  scongiurazione  or  incantation,  and 
what  ingredients  were  used  to  work  the  charm.  I  have 
given  numbers  of  these  real  witch-tales  in  my  "  Etruscan- 
Roman  Remains,"  and  a  few,  such  as  "Orpheus  and 
Eurydice,"  "  Intialo,"  and  "  II  Moschone,"  in  this  work. 
.Lady  Vere  de  Vere,  who  has  investigated  witchcraft  as 


PREFACE  ix 

it  exists  in  the  Italian  Tyrol,  in  an  admirable  article  in  La 
Rivista  of  Rome  (June  1894) — which  article  has  the  only 
demerit  of  being  too  brief — tells  us  that  "  the  Community 
of  Italian  Witches  is  regulated  by  laws,  traditions,  and 
customs  of  the  most  secret  kind,  possessing  special  recipes 
for  sorcery,"  which  is  perfectly  true.  Having  been  free  of 
the  community  for  years,  I  can  speak  from  experience. 
The  more  occult  and  singular  of  their  secrets  are  naturally 
not  of  a  nature  to  be  published,  any  more  than  are  those  of 
the  Voodoos.  Some  of  the  milder  sort  may  be  found  in  the 
story  of  the  "  Moscone,  or  Great  Fly,"  in  this  work.  The 
great  secret  for  scholars  is,  however,  that  these  pagans 
and  heretics,  who  are  the  last  who  cling  to  a  heathen 
creed  out-worn  in  Europe — these  outcast  children  of  the 
Cainites,  Ultra-Taborites,  and  similar  ancient  worshippers 
of  the  devil,  are  really  the  ones  who  possess  the  most 
valuable  stores  of  folk-lore,  that  is  to  say,  such  as  illus- 
trate the  first  origins  of  the  religious  Idea,  its  develop- 
ment, and  specially  the  evolution  of  the  Opposition  or 
Protestant  principle. 

As  regards  the  many  legends  in  this  book  which  do 
not  illustrate  such  serious  research,  it  is  but  natural  that 
witches,  who  love  and  live  in  the  Curious,  should  have 
preserved  more  even  of  them  than  other  people,  and  it 
was  accordingly  among  her  colleagues  of  the  mystic  spell 
that  Maddalena  found  tales  which  would  have  been  long 
sought  for  elsewhere,  of  which  this  book  is  a  most  con- 
vincing proof  in  itself;  for  while  I  had  resolved  on  second 
thought  to  make  it  one  of  simple  local  tales,  there  still 
hangs  over  most — even  of  these — a  dim,  unholy  air  of 
sorcery,  a  witch  aura,  a  lurid  light,  a  something  eerie 


x  PREFACE 

and  uncanny,  a  restless  hankering  for  the  broom  and  the 
supernatural.  Those  tales  are  Maddalena's  every  line — I 
pray  thee,  reader,  not  to  make  them  mine.  The  spirit  will 
always  speak. 

Very  different,  indeed,  from  these  are  the  contributions 
of  Marietta  Pery,  the  improvvisatrice,  though  even  she  in 
good  faith,  and  not  for  fun,  had  a  horseshoe  for  luck ; 
which,  however,  being  of  an  artistic  turn,  she  had  elegantly 
gilded,  and  also,  like  a  true  Italian,  wore  an  amulet.  She, 
too,  knew  many  fairy  tales,  but  they  were  chiefly  such 
as  may  be  found  among  the  Racconti  delle  Fate,  and  the 
variants  which  are  now  so  liberally  published.  She  had, 
however,  a  rare,  I  may  almost  say  a  refined,  taste  in 
these,  as  the  poems  which  I  have  given  indicate. 

I  must  also  express  my  obligations  to  Miss  Roma 
Lister,  a  lady  born  in  Italy  of  English  parentage,  who  is 
an  accomplished  folk-lorist  and  collector,  as  was  shown 
by  her  paper  on  the  Legends  of  the  Castelli  Romani, 
read  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  Italian  Folk-Lore  Society, 
founded  by  Count  Angelo  de  Gubernatis,  the  learned  and 
accomplished  Oriental  scholar,  and  editor  of  La  Rivista. 
I  would  here  say  that  her  researches  in  the  vicinity  of 
Rome  have  gone  far  to  corroborate  what  I  published  in 
the  "  Etruscan-Roman  Remains."  I  must  also  thank 
Miss  Teresa  Wyndham  for  sundry  kind  assistances, 
when  I  was  ill  in  Siena. 

There  is  no  city  in  the  world  where,  within  such  narrow 
limit,  Art,  Nature,  and  History  have  done  so  much  to 
make  a  place  beautiful  and  interesting  as  Florence.  It  is 
one  where  we  feel  that  there  has  been  vivid  and  varied 
life — life  such  as  was  led  by  Benvenuto  Cellini  and  a 


PREFACE  xi 

thousand  like  him — and  we  long  more  than  elsewhere  to 
enter  into  it,  and  know  how  those  men  in  quaint  and  pic- 
turesque garb  thought  and  felt  four  hundred  years  ago. 
Now,  as  at  the  present  day  politics  and  news  do  not 
enter  into  our  habits  of  thought  more  than  goblins,  spirits 
of  fountains  and  bridges,  legends  of  palaces  and  towers, 
and  quaint  jests  of  friar  or  squire,  did  into  those  of  the 
olden  time,  I  cannot  help  believing  that  this  book  will  be 
not  only  entertaining,  but  useful  to  all  who  would  study  the 
spirit  of  history  thoroughly.  The  folk-lore  of  the  future 
has  a  far  higher  mission  than  has  as  yet  been  dreamed 
for  it;  it  is  destined  to  revive  for  us  the  inner  sentiment 
or  habitual  and  peculiar  life  of  man  as  he  was  in  the 
olden  time  more  perfectly  than  it  has  been  achieved  by 
fiction.  This  will  be  done  by  bringing  before  the  reader 
the  facts  or  phenomena  of  that  life  itself  in  more  vivid  and 
familiar  form.  Admitting  this,  the  reader  can  hardly 
fail  to  see  that  the  writer  who  gathers  up  with  pains 
whatever  he  can  collect  of  such  materials  as  this  book 
contains  does  at  least  some  slight  service  to  Science. 

And  to  conclude — with  the  thing  to  which  I  would 
specially  call  attention — I  distinctly  state  that  (as  will 
be  very  evident  to  the  critical  reader)  there  are  in  this 
book,  especially  in  the  second  series,  which  I  hope  to 
bring  out  later,  certain  tales,  or  anecdotes,  or  jests, 
which  are  either  based  on  a  very  slight  foundation  of 
tradition — often  a  mere  hint — or  have  been  so  "written 
up  "  by  a  runaway  pen — and  mine  is  an  "  awful  bolter  " 
—that  the  second-rate  folk-lorist,  whose  forte  consists 
not  in  finding  facts  but  faults,  may  say  in  truth,  as  one 
of  his  kind  did  in  America :  "  Mr.  Leland  is  throughout 


xii  PREFACE 

inaccurate."  In  these  numerous  instances,  which  are 
only  "folk-lore"  run  wild,  as  Rip  Van  Winkle,  Sleepy 
Hollow,  and  Heine's  Gods  in  Exile  are  legend,  I  have, 
I  hope,  preserved  a  certain  spirit  of  truth,  though  I 
have  sans  mercy  sacrificed  the  letter,  even  as  the  red- 
cap goblins,  which  haunt  old  houses,  are  said  to  be  the 
ghosts  of  infants  sacrificed  by  witches,  or  slain  by  their 
mothers,  in  order  to  make /#//£///  or  imps  of  them. 

Now  as  for  this  reconstructing  Hercules  from  a  foot, 
instead  of  giving  the  fragment,  at  which  few  would  have 
glanced,  the  success  consists  in  the  skill  attained,  and 
the  approbation  of  the  reader.  And  with  this  frank 
admission,  that  in  a  certain  number  of  these  tales  the 
utmost  liberty  has  been  taken,  I  conclude. 

CHARLES  GODFREY  LELAND. 


FLORENCE,  April  6,  1894. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

THE  THREE  HORNS  OF  MESSER  GUICCIARDINI  i 

THE  PILLS  OF  THE  MEDICI 6 

FURICCHIA,  OR  THE  EGG-WOMAN  OF  THE  MERCATO  VECCHIO  .  II 

THE  LANTERNS  OF  THE  STROZZI  PALACE 17 

THE  GOBLIN  OF  LA  VIA  DEL  CORNO 21 

FRATE  GIOCONDO,  THE  MONK  OF  SANTA  MARIA  NOVELLA       .  26 
THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  CROCE  AL  TREBBIO   .        .        .       ,        -31 

THE  Two  FAIRIES  OF  THE  WELL 36 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  VIA  DELLE  SERVE  SMARRITE     .        .        .41 

THE  BRONZE  BOAR  OF  THE  MERCATO  Nuovo     ....  47 

THE  FAIRY  OF  THE  CAMPANILE,  OR  THE  TOWER  OF  GIOTTO  .  51 
THE  GOBLIN  OF  THE  TOWER  BELLA  TRINITA,  OR  THE  PORTA 

SAN  NICCOLO 54 

THE  GHOST  OF  MICHEL  ANGELO  .        .        .        .        .        .        .59 

THE  APPARITION  OF  DANTE 62 

LEGENDS  OF  LA  CERTOSA 66 

LEGENDS  OF  THE  BRIDGES  IN  FLORENCE ^4 

THE  BASHFUL  LOVER 85 

LA  FORTUNA 87 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  UNFINISHED  PALACE 91 

THE  DEVIL  OF  THE  MERCATO  VECCHIO 98 

SEEING  THAT  ALL  WAS  RIGHT 107 

THE  ENCHANTED  Cow  OF  LA  VIA  VACCHERECCIA     ...  109 

xiii 


xiv  CONTENTS 


PAGE 


THE  WITCH  OF  THE  PORTA  ALLA  CROCE 114 

THE  COLUMN  OF  COSIMO,  OR  DELLA  SANTA  TRINITA  .  .118 

LEGENDS  OF  OR'  SAN  MICHELE 122 

THE  WITCH  OF  THE  ARNO 132 

STORIES  OF  SAN  MINIATO 141 

THE  FRIAR'S  HEAD  OF  SANTA  MARIA  MAGGIORE — THE  LADY 

WHO  CONFESSED  FOR  EVERYBODY— HOLY  RELICS  .  .149 
BlANCONE,  THE  GlANT  STATUE  IN  THE  SlGNORIA  .  .  .152 

THE  RED  GOBLIN  OF  THE  BARGELLO 160 

LEGENDS  OF  SAN  LORENZO 167 

LEGEND  OF  THE  PIAZZA  SAN  BIAGIO 174 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  PORTA  SAN  GALLO 176 

STORY  OF  THE  PODEST\  WHO  WAS  LONG  ON  HIS  JOURNEY  .  179 
LEGENDS  OF  THE  BOBOLI  GARDENS  :  THE  OLD  GARDENER,  AND 

THE  Two  STATUES  AND  THE  FAIRY 184 

How  LA  VIA  BELLA  MOSCA  GOT  ITS  NAME  .  .  .  .188 

THE  ROMAN  VASE 194 

THE  UNFORTUNATE  PRIEST 201 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  FIG-TREE 205 

IL  PALAZZO  FERONI 211 

LA  VIA  DELLE  BELLE  DONNE  .  .....  219 

THE  WIZARD  WITH  RED  TEETH 221 

ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE 225 

INTIALO  :  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  HAUNTING  SHADOW  .  .  .  237 
CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  ...  .  254 


LEGENDS    OF   FLORENCE 


THE  THREE  HORNS  OF  MESSER 
GUICCIARDINI 

"  More  plenty  than  the  fabled  horn 
Thrice  emptied  could  pour  forth  at  banqueting." 

— KEATS,  The  Earlier  Version  of  "  Hyperion" 

"  Prosperity  is  often  our  worst  enemy,  making  us  vicious,  frivolous,  and 
insolent,  so  that  to  bear  it  well  is  a  better  test  of  a  man  than  to  endure 
adversity."— GUICCIARDINI,  Maxims,  No.  64. 

I  DID  not  know  when  I  first  read  and  translated  the 
following  story,  which  was  obtained  for  me  and  written 
out  by  Maddalena,  that  it  had  any  reference  to  the 
celebrated  historian  and  moralist,  Guicciardini.  How  I 
did  so  forms  the  subject  of  a  somewhat  singular  little 
incident,  which  I  will  subsequently  relate. 

LE  TRE  CORNE. 

"There  was  an  elderly  man,  a  very  good,  kind-hearted, 
wise  person,  who  was  gentle  and  gay  with  every  one,  and 
much  beloved  by  his  servants,  because  they  always  found 
him  buono  ed  allegro — pleasant  and  jolly.  And  often  when 
with  them  while  they  were  at  their  work,  he  would  say, 
*  Felice  voi  poveri  / ' — *  Oh,  how  lucky  you  are  to  be  poor  ! ' 
And  they  would  reply  to  him,  singing  in  the  old  Tuscan 
fashion,  because  they  knew  it  pleased  him : 

" '  O  caro  Signor,  you  have  gold  in  store, 

With  all  to  divert  yourself; 
Your  bees  make  honey,  you've  plenty  of  money, 

And  victuals  upon  the  shelf: 
A  palace  you  have,  and  rich  attire, 
And  everything  to  your  heart's  desire.' 

A 


LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 


11  Then  he  'would  .reply  merrily  : 

Ji '  My" ctear  good  folk,  because  you  are  poor 
'  '  You  ?re.my  friends,  and  all  the  more, 
"  "*  ."  ,•'*'._,'  '  *£or  the'poor  are  polite  to  all  they  see, 
Arid  therefole  blessed  be  Poverty  !' 

"  Then  a  second  servant  sang  : 

"  '  Oh  bello  gentile  mio  Signor', 

Your  praise  of  poverty  'd  soon  be  o'er 
If  you  yourself  for  a  time  were  poor  ; 
For  nothing  to  eat,  and  water  to  drink, 
Isn't  so  nice  as  you  seem  to  think, 
And  a  lord  who  lives  in  luxury 
Don't  know  the  pressure  of  poverty.' 

"  Then  all  would  laugh,  and  the  jolly  old  lord  would  sing 
in  his  turn : 

"  *  O  charo  servitor', 

Tu  parli  tanto  bene, 
Ma  il  tuo  parlar 

A  me  non  mi  conviene.' .  . . 

"  '  My  boy,  you  answer  well, 
But  with  false  implication  ; 
For  what  to  me  you  tell 
Has  no  true  application  ; 
How  oft  I  heard  you  say 
(You  know  'tis  true,  you  sinner  !) 
"  I  am  half-starved  to-day, 
How  I'll  enjoy  my  dinner  !  " 
Your  hunger  gives  you  health 
And  causes  great  delight, 
While  I  with  all  my  wealth 
Have  not  an  appetite.' 

"  Then  another  servant  sang,  laughing : 

" '  Dear  master,  proverbs  say, 

I  have  heard  them  from  my  birth, 
That  of  all  frightful  beasts 

Which  walk  upon  the  earth, 
Until  we  reach  the  bier, 

Wherever  man  may  be, 
There's  nothing  which  we  fear 

So  much  as  poverty.' 

"  And  so  one  evening  as  they  were  merrily  improvising  and 
throwing  stornelli  at  one  another  in  this  fashion,  the  Signore 
went  to  his  street-door,  and  there  beheld  three  ladies  of  stately 
form ;  for  though  they  were  veiled  and  dressed  in  the  plainest 
black  long  robes,  it  was  evident  that  they  were  of  high  rank. 
Therefore  the  old  lord  saluted  them  courteously,  and  seeing 


THE  THREE  HORNS  OF  MESSER  GUICCIARDINI      3 

that  they  were  strangers,  asked  them  whither  they  were  going. 
But  he  had  first  of  all  had  them  politely  escorted  by  his 
servants  into  his  best  reception-room.1 

"  And  the  one  who  appeared  to  be  the  chief  replied  : 
" '  Truly  we  know   not  where  we  shall  lodge,   for   in   all 
Florence  there  is,  I  trow,  not  a  soul  who,  knowing  who  we 
are,  would  receive  us.' 

" '  And  who  art  thou,  lady  ? '  asked  the  Signore.  And  she 
replied : 

"  *  Io  mi  chiamo,  e  sono, 
La  Poverta  in  persona, 
E  queste  due  donzelle, 
Sono  le  mie  sorelle, 
Chi  voi  non  conoscete 
La  Fame  e  la  Sete  ! ' 

"  '  I  am  one  whom  all  throw  curse  on. 
I  am  Poverty  in  person  ; 
Of  these  ladies  here,  the  younger 
Is  my  sister,  known  as  Hunger, 
And  the  third,  who's  not  the  worst, 
Is  dreaded  still  by  all  as  Thirst.' 

"  *  Blessed  be  the  hour  in  which  ye  entered  my  house ! ' 
cried  the  Signore,  delighted.  '  Make  yourselves  at  home,  rest 
and  be  at  ease  as  long  as  you  like — sempre  sarei  benglieto.' 

"  *  And  why  are  you  so  well  disposed  towards  me  ? '  inquired 
Poverty. 

" '  Because,  lady,  I  am,  I  trust,  sufficiently  wise  with  years 
and  experience  to  know  that  everything  must  not  be  judged 
from  the  surface.  Great  and  good  art  thou,  since  but  for 
thee  the  devil  a  beggar  in  the  world  would  ever  move  a  finger 
to  do  the  least  work,  and  we  should  all  be  in  mouldy  green 
misery.  Well  hath  it  been  said  that  '  Need  makes  the  old 
woman  trot,' 2  and  likewise  that  Poverta  non  guasta  gentilezza — 
*  Poverty  doth  not  degrade  true  nobility,'  as  I  can  perceive  by 
thy  manner,  O  noble  lady.  Thou,  Poverty,  art  the  mother  of 
Industry,  and  grandmother  of  Wealth,  Health,  and  Art ;  thou 
makest  all  men  work  ;  but  for  thee  there  would  be  no  harvests, 
yea,  all  the  fine  things  in  the  world  are  due  to  Want' 

1  Nel  miglio  salotto  di  recevimento.     This  is  all  an  accurate  picture  of 
old  Florentine  customs. 

2  Necessita  fa  la  vecchia  trottare.     On  which  proverb  Matteo  Villani 
comments  as  follows:  "And  thus  he  truly  verified  the  saying  of  Valerius 
Maximus,  that  '  the  wants  caused  by  human  weakness  are  a  common  bond 
of  security,'  all  of  which  is  briefly  expressed  in  the  French  proverb,  'Need 
makes  the  old  woman  (or  old  age)  bestir  herself.' "    Valerius  Maximus  was 
the  prototype  of  Guicciardinu 


4  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

" '  And  I  ? '  said  Dame  Hunger.    '  Dost  thou  also  love  me  ? ' 
"  *  Si,  Dio  ti  benedicha  ! '  replied  the  Signore.     '  La  fame 
ghastiga  il  ghiotto ' — *  Hunger  corrects  gluttony. 

"  *  Hunger  causes  our  delight, 
For  it  gives  us  appetite  ; 
For  dainties  without  hunger  sent 
Form  a  double  punishment.' 

*  Hunger  is  the  best  sauce.'  Thou  makest  men  bold,  for  chane 
affamato  non  prezza  bastone — a  hungry  dog  fears  no  stick. 
Thou  makest  the  happiness  of  every  feast.' 

" '  Ed  io,  Signore  ? '  said  Thirst.  '  Hast  thou  also  a  good 
word  for  me  ? ' 

"  '  A  Dio,  grazie  !  God  be  praised  that  thou  art.  For  with- 
out thee  I  should  have  no  wine.  Nor  do  men  speak  in  pity 
of  any  one  when  they  say  in  a  wine-shop,  "  He  is  thirsty  enough 
to  drink  up  the  Arno.J>  I  remember  a  Venetian  who  once  said, 
coming  to  a  feast,  "  I  would  not  take  five  gold  zecchini  for  this 
thirst  which  I  now  have."  And  to  sum  it  all  up,  I  find  that 
poverty  with  want  to  urge  it  is  better  than  wealth  without 
power  to  enjoy,  and,  taking  one  with  another,  the  poor  are 
honester  and  have  better  hearts  than  the  rich.' 

"'  Truly  thou  art  great,'  replied  Poverty.  '  Gentile,  buono,  e 
galantuomo  a  parlare — gentle,  good,  and  noble  in  thy  speech. 
In  such  wise  thou  wilt  ever  be  rich,  for  as  thou  art  rich  thou 
art  good  and  charitable.  And  thou  hast  well  said  that  Plenty 
comes  from  us,  and  it  is  we  who  truly  own  the  horn  of 
plenty;  and  therefore  take  from  me  this  horn  as  a  gift,  and 
while  thou  livest  be  as  rich  as  thou  art  good  and  wise ! ' 

"'And  I,'  said  Hunger,  'give  thee  another,  and  while  it  is 
thine  thou  shalt  never  want  either  a  good  appetite  nor  the 
means  to  gratify  it.  For  thou  hast  seen  the  truth  that  I  was 
not  created  to  starve  men  to  death,  but  to  keep  them  from 
starving.' 

"'And  I,'  said  Thirst,  'give  thee  a  third  horn  of  plenty; 
that  is,  plenty  of  wine  and  temperate  desire — e  buon  pro  vi 
faccia.  Much  good  may  it  do  you  ! ' 

"  Saying  this  they  vanished,  and  he  would  have  thought  it 
all  a  dream  but  for  the  three  horns  which  they  left  behind 
them.  So  he  had  a  long  life  and  a  happy,  and  in  gratitude 
to  his  benefactresses  he  placed  on  his  shield  three  horns,  as 
men  may  see  them  to  this  day." 

When  I  received  this  legend,  I  did  not  know  that  the 


THE  THREE  HORNS  OF  MESSER  GUICCIARDINI      5 

three  horns  on  a  shield  form  the  coat  of  arms  of  Messer 
Guicciardini,  the  historian,  nor  had  I  ever  seen  them.  It 
happened  by  pure  chance  I  went  one  day  with  my  wife 
and  Miss  Roma  Lister,  who  is  devoted  to  folk-lore,  to 
make  my  first  visit  to  Sir  John  Edgar  at  his  home,  the 
celebrated  old  mediaeval  palazzo,  the  Villa  Guicciardini, 
Via  Montugli. 

On  the  way  we  passed  the  Church  of  the  Annunciata, 
and  while  driving  by  I  remarked  that  there  were  on  its 
wall,  among  many  shields,  several  which  had  on  them 
a  single  hunting-horn,  but  that  I  had  never  seen  three 
together,  but  had  heard  of  such  a  device,  and  was  very 
anxious  to  find  it,  and  learn  to  what  family  it  belonged. 

What  was  my  astonishment,  on  arriving  at  the  villa 
or  palazzo,  at  beholding  on  the  wall  in  the  court  a  large 
shield  bearing  the  three  horns.  Sir  John  Edgar  informed 
me  that  it  was  the  shield  of  the  Guicciardini  family,  who 
at  one  time  inhabited  the  mansion.  I  related  to  him  the 
story,  and  he  said,  "  I  should  think  that  tale  had  been 
invented  by  some  one  who  knew  Guicciardini,  the  author, 
very  well,  for  it  is  perfectly  inspired  with  the  spirit  of 
his  writings.  It  depicts  the  man  himself  as  I  have  con- 
ceived him." 

Then  we  went  into  the  library,  where  my  host  showed 
me  Fenton's  translation  of  the  "History"  of  Guicciardini 
and  his  "  Maxims "  in  Italian,  remarking  that  the  one 
which  I  have  placed  as  motto  to  this  chapter  was  in  fact 
an  epitome  of  the  whole  legend. 

I  should  observe,  what  did  not  before  occur  to  me, 
that  the  family  palace  of  the  Guicciardini  is  in  the  Via 
Guicciardini,  nearly  opposite  to  the  house  of  Machiavelli, 
and  that  it  is  there  that  the  fairies  probably  called,  if  it 
was  in  the  winter-time. 


THE   PILLS   OF  THE   MEDICI 

"  When  I  upon  a  time  was  somewhat  ill, 
Then  every  man  did  press  on  me  a  cure  ; 
And  when  my  wife  departed,  all  of  them 
Came  crowding  round,  commending  me  a  spouse  ; 
But  now  my  ass  is  dead,  not  one  of  them 
Has  offered  me  another— devil  a  one  !  " — Spanish  Jests. 

"  Tu  vai  cercando  il  mat,  come  fanno  i  Medici" — "Thou  goest  about 
seeking  evil,  even  as  the  Medici  do,  and  of  thee  and  of  them  it  may  be 
said,  Anagyram  coim/ioves" — Italian  Proverbs,  A.D.  1618. 

THE  higher  a  tree  grows,  the  more  do  petty  animals 
burrow  into  its  roots,  and  displace  the  dirt  to  show  how 
it  grew  in  lowly  earth ;  and  so  it  is  with  great  families, 
who  never  want  for  such  investigators,  as  appears  by  the 
following  tale,  which  refers  to  the  origin  of  the  Medicis, 
yet  which  is  withal  rather  merry  than  malicious. 

D'UNO  MEDICO  CHE  CURAVA  GLI  ASINI. 

"  It  was  long  ago — so  long,  Signore  Carlo,  that  the  oldest 
olive-tree  in  Tuscany  had  not  been  planted,  and  when  wolves 
sometimes  came  across  the  Ponte  Vecchio  into  the  town  to 
look  into  the  shop-windows,  and  ghosts  and  witches  were  as 
common  by  night  as  Christians  by  day,  that  there  was  a 
man  in  Florence  who  hated  work,  and  who  had  observed, 
early  as  the  age  was,  that  those  who  laboured  the  least  were 
the  best  paid.  And  he  was  always  repeating  to  himself : 

"  '  Con  arte  e  con  inganno, 
Si  vive  mezzo  1'anno, 
Con  inganno,  e  con  arte, 
Si  vive  1'altra  parte. ' 

"  Or  in  English  : 

"  '  With  tricks  and  cleverness,  'tis  clear, 
A  man  can  live  six  months  i'  the  year, 
And  then  with  cleverness  and  tricks 
He'll  live  as  well  the  other  six.' 
6 


THE  PILLS  OF  THE  MEDICI  7 

"  Now  having  come  across  a  recipe  for  making  pills  which 
were  guaranteed  to  cure  everything,  he  resolved  to  set  up  for 
an  universal  doctor,  and  that  with  nothing  but  the  pills  to 
aid.  So  he  went  forth  from  Florence,  wandering  from  one 
village  to  another,  selling  his  pills,  curing  some  people,  and 
getting,  as  often  happens,  fame  far  beyond  his  deserts, 
so  that  the  peasants  began  to  believe  he  could  remedy  all 
earthly  ills. 

"And  at  last  one  day  a  stupid  contadino,  who  had  lost  his 
ass,  went  to  the  doctor  and  asked  him  whether  by  his  art  and 
learning  he  could  recover  for  him  the  missing  animal.  Where- 
upon the  doctor  gave  him  six  pills  at  a  quattrino  (a  farthing) 
each,  and  bade  him  wander  forth  thinking  intently  all  the 
time  on  the  delinquent  donkey,  and,  to  perfect  the  spell,  to 
walk  in  all  the  devious  ways  and  little  travelled  tracks,  solitary 
by-paths,  and  lonely  sentieri,  ever  repeating  solemnly,  *  Asino 
viio  !  asino  mio  !  Tu  che  amo  come  un  zio  / ' 

"  '  Oh  my  ass  !  my  ass  !  my  ass  ! 
Whom  I  loved  like  an  uncle, 
Alas  !  alas  ! ' 

"  And  having  done  this  for  three  days,  it  came  to  pass,  and 
no  great  wonder  either,  that  he  found  Signore  Somaro  (or 
Don  Key)  comfortably  feasting  in  a  dark  lane  on  thistles. 
After  which  he  praised  to  the  skies  the  virtue  of  the  wonderful 
pills,  by  means  of  which  one  could  find  strayed  cattle.  And 
from  this  dated  the  doctor's  success,  so  that  he  grew  rich  and 
founded  the  family  of  the  Medici,  who,  in  commemoration  of 
this  their  great  ancestor,  put  the  six  pills  into  their  shield,  as 
you  may  see  all  over  Florence  to  this  day." 

There  is  given  in  the  "  Facezie  "  a  story  which  may  be 
intended  as  a  jest  on  this  family.  It  is  as  follows  : 

"  It  happened  once  that  a  certain  doctor  or  medico,  who  was 
by  no  means  wanting  in  temerita  or  bold  self-conceit,  was 
sent  as  ambassador  to  Giovanna  la  Superba,  or  Joanna  the 
Troud,  Queen  of  Naples.  And  this  Florentine  Medico  having 
heard  many  tales  of  the  gallantries  of  the  royal  lady,  thought 
he  would  try  the  chance,  and  thereby  greatly  please  himself, 
and  also  the  better  advance  his  political  aims.  Therefore,  at 
the  first  interview,  he  told  her  that  he  was  charged  with  a 
secret  mission,  which  could  only  be  confided  to  her  '  between 


8  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

four  eyes,'  or  in  private.     So  he  was  taken  by  her  into  a  room, 
where  he  bluntly  made  a  proposal  of  love.1 

"Then  the  Queen,  not  in  the  least  discomposed,  looking 
straight  at  him,  asked  if  that  was  one  of  the  questions  or 
demands  with  which  he  had  been  charged  by  the  Florentines. 
At  which  he  blushed  like  a  beet  and  had  no  more  to  say, 
having  learned  that  a  bold  beggar  deserves  a  stern  refusal." 

The  name  of  the  Medici  naturally  gave  rise  to  many 
jests,  and  one  of  these  is  narrated  of  Gonella,  a  famous 
farceur.  It  is  as  follows : 

"  One  morning,  at  the  table  of  the  Grand  Duke  Lorenzo, 
there  was  a  discussion  as  to  the  number  and  proportion  of 
those  who  followed  different  trades  and  callings,  one  declaring 
that  there  were  more  clothmakers,  another  more  priests  than 
any  others,  till  at  last  the  host  asked  Gonella  his  opinion. 

" '  I  am  sure,'  said  Gonella,  '  that  there  are  more  doctors 
than  any  other  kind  of  people — e  non  accade  dubitarne — and 
there  is  no  use  in  doubting  it.' 

"  *  Little  do  you  know  about  it,'  replied  the  Duke,  '  if  you 
do  not  know  that  in  all  this  city  there  are  only  two  or  three 
accredited  physicians.' 

"'With  how  little  knowledge,'  answered  Gonella,  'can  a 
state  be  governed.  It  seems,  O  Excellency,  that  you  have  so 
much  to  do  that  you  do  not  know  what  is  in  your  city,  nor 
what  the  citizens  do.'  And  the  result  of  the  debate  was  a  bet, 
and  Gonella  took  every  bet  offered,  his  stakes  being  small  and 
the  others  great — A  quattrino  e  quattrino  si  fa  il  fiorino — 
Farthings  to  farthings  one  by  one  make  a  pound  when  all  is 
done. 

"The  next  morning  Gonella,  having  well  wrapped  up  his 
throat  and  face  in  woollen  stuff,  stood,  looking  pitifully 
enough,  at  the  door  of  the  Duomo,  and  every  one  who  passed 
asked  him  what  was  the  matter,  to  which  he  replied,  '  All  my 
teeth  ache  terribly.'  And  everybody  offered  him  an  in- 
fallible remedy,  which  he  noted  down,  and  with  it  the  name  of 
him  who  gave  it.  And  then  going  about  town,  he  made  out 
during  the  day  a  list  of  three  hundred  prescribers,  with  as 
many  prescriptions. 

1  "  Chiese  alia  regina  di  dormir  seco."     Which  was  certainly  very  plain 
blunt  speaking,  even  for  the  time. 


THE  PILLS  OF  THE  MEDICI  9 

"And  last  of  all  he  went  to  the  palace  at  the  hour  of 
supper,  and  the  Grand  Duke  seeing  him  so  wrapped  up, 
asked  the  cause,  and  hearing  that  it  was  toothache,  also  pre- 
scribed a  sovereign  remedy,  and  Gonella  put  it  with  the  name 
of  the  Duke  at  the  head  of  the  list.  And  going  home,  he  had 
the  whole  fairly  engrossed,  and  the  next  day,  returning  to  the 
palace,  was  reminded  of  his  bets.  Whereupon  he  produced 
the  paper,  and  great  was  the  laughter  which  it  caused,  since  it 
appeared  by  it  that  all  the  first  citizens  and  nobles  of  Florence 
were  physicians,  and  that  the  Grand  Duke  himself  was  their 
first  Medico.  So  it  was  generally  admitted  that  Gonella  had 
won,  and  they  paid  him  the  money,  with  which  he  made  merry 
for  many  days." 

This  tale  has  been  retold  by  many  a  writer,  but  by  none 
better  than  by  an  American  feuilletoniste,  who  improved 
it  by  giving  a  number  of  the  prescriptions  commended. 
Truly  it  has  been  well  said  that  at  forty  years  of  age 
every  man  is  either  a  fool  or  a  physician. 

I  have  another  legend  of  the  Medici,  in  which  it  is 
declared  that  their  armorial  symbol  is  a  key,  and  in 
which  they  are  spoken  of  as  wicked  and  cruel.  It  is  as 
follows : 

I  MEDICI. 

"  The  Palazzo  Medici  is  situated  in  the  Borgo  degli  Albizzi, 
and  this  palace  is  called  by  the  people  /  Visacchi  (i.e.,  figures 
or  faces),  because  there  are  to  be  seen  in  it  many  figures  of 
people  who  were  when  alive  all  witches  and  wizards,  but  who 
now  live  a  life  in  death  in  stone. 

"  The  arms  of  the  Medici  bear  a  great  key,  and  it  is  said 
that  this  was  a  sorcerer's  or  magic  key,  which  belonged  to  the 
master  of  all  the  wizards  or  to  the  queen  of  the  witches. 

"  And  being  ever  evil  at  heart  and  cruelly  wicked,  the  old 
Medici  sought  restlessly  every  opportunity  to  do  wrong,  which 
was  greatly  aided  by  the  queen  of  the  witches  herself,  who 
entered  the  family,  and  allied  herself  to  one  of  it ;  others  say 
she  was  its  first  ancestress.  And  that  being  on  her  death-bed, 
she  called  her  husband,  or  son,  or  the  family,  and  said : 

"'Take  this  key,  and  when  I  am  dead,  open  a  certain 
door  in  the  cellar,  which,  through  secret  passages,  leads  to  an 


io  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

enchanted  garden,  in  which  you  will  find  all  the  books  and 
apparatus  needed  to  acquire  great  skill  in  sorcery,  and  thus 
thou  canst  do  all  the  evil  and  enjoy  all  the  crime  that  a  great 
ruler  can  desire ;  spare  not  man  in  thy  vengeance,  nor  woman 
in  thy  passion ;  he  lives  best  who  wishes  for  most  and  gets 
what  he  wants.' 

"  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  Medici  became  such  villains, 
and  why  they  bear  a  key." 

Villains  they  may  have  been,  but  they  were  not  so 
deficient  in  moral  dignity  as  a  friend  of  mine,  who, 
observing  that  one  of  the  pills  in  their  scutcheon  is  blue, 
remarked  that  they  were  the  first  to  take  a  blue  pill. 

Since  the  above  was  written  I  have  collected  many 
more,  and  indeed  far  more  interesting  and  amusing 
legends  of  the  Medici;  especially  several  referring  to 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent,  which  are  not  given  by  any 
writer  that  I  am  aware  of.  These  will  appear,  I  trust,  in 
a  second  series. 

"  A  race  which  was  the  reflex  of  an  age 
So  strange,  so  flashed  with  glory,  so  bestarred 
With  splendid  deeds,  so  flushed  with  rainbow  hues, 
That  one  forgot  the  dark  abyss  of  night 
Which  covered  it  at  last  when  all  was  o'er. 
Take  all  that's  evil  and  unto  it  add 
All  that  is  glorious,  and  the  result 
Will  be,  in  one  brief  word,  the  Medici." 


FURICCHIA,  OR  THE  EGG-WOMAN  OF  THE 
MERCATO  VECCHIO 

"  Est  anus  inferno,  vel  formidanda  barathro, 
Saga  diu  magicis  usa  magisteriis, 
Hxc  inhians  ova  gallina  matre  creatis. 
Obsipat  assueto  pharraaca  mixta  cibo, 
Pharmaca  queis  quaecunque  semel  gallina  voratis, 
Ova  decem  pariat  bis  deciesque  decem." 

STEUCCIUS,  cited  by  P.  GOLDSCHMIDT, 
Verivorffener  Hexen  und  Zauberadvocat.     Hamburg,  1705. 

"  E  un  figliuolo  della' gallina  bianca." — Old  Proverb. 

THE  Mercato  Vecchio  was  fertile  in  local  traditions,  and 
one  of  these  is  as  follows : 

LEGEND  OF  THE  LANTERNS. 

"  There  was  in  the  Old  Market  of  Florence  an  old  house 
with  a  small  shop  in  it,  and  over  the  door  was  the  figure  or 
bas-relief  of  a  pretty  hen,  to  show  that  eggs  were  sold  there. 

"  All  the  neighbours  were  puzzled  to  know  how  the  woman 
who  kept  this  shop  could  sell  so  many  eggs  as  she  did,  or 
whence  she  obtained  them,  for  she  was  never  seen  in  the 
market  buying  any,  nor  were  they  brought  to  her ;  whence  they 
concluded  that  she  was  a  witch  and  an  egg-maker,  and  this 
scandal  was  especially  spread  by  her  rivals  in  business.  But 
others  found  her  a  very  good  person,  of  kindly  manner,  and  it 
was  noted  in  time  that  she  not  only  did  a  great  deal  of  good 
in  charity,  and  that  her  eggs  were  not  only  always  fresh  and 
warm,  but  that  many  persons  who  had  drunk  them  when  ill 
had  been  at  once  relieved,  and  recovered  in  consequence. 
And  the  name  of  this  egg-wife  was  Furicchia. 

"  Now  there  was  an  old  lady  who  had  gone  down  in  the 
world  or  become  poor,  and  she  too  had  set  up  a  shop  to  sell 
eggs,  but  did  not  succeed,  chiefly  because  everybody  went  to 
Furicchia.  And  this  made  the  former  more  intent  than  ever  to 
discover  the  secret,  and  she  at  once  went  to  work  to  find  it  out. 


12  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Every  morning  early,  when  Furicchia  rose,  she  went  out 
of  doors,  and  then  the  hen  carved  over  the  door  came  down 
as  a  beautiful  white  fowl,  who  told  her  all  the  slanders  and 
gossip  which  people  spread  about  her,  and  what  effort  was 
being  made  to  discover  her  secret.  And  one  day  it  said : 

"  *  There  is  the  Signora  who  was  once  rich  and  who  is  now 
poor,  and  who  has  sworn  to  find  out  thy  secret  how  thou  canst 
have  so  many  eggs  to  sell,  since  no  one  sees  thee  buy  any, 
and  how  it  comes  that  invalids  and  bewitched  children  are  at 
once  cured  by  the  virtue  of  those  eggs.  So  she  hopes  to  bring 
thee  to  death,  and  to  get  all  thy  trade. 

" '  But,  dear  Furicchia,  this  shall  never  be,  because  I  will 
save  thee.  I  well  remember  how,  when  I  was  a  little  chicken, 
and  the  poultry  dealer  had  bought  me,  and  was  about  to  wring 
my  neck — b'r'r'r  ! — I  shudder  when  I  think  of  it ! — when  thou 
didst  save  my  life,  and  I  will  ever  be  grateful  to  thee,  and 
care  for  thy  fortune. 

"  '  Now  I  will  tell  thee  what  to  do.  Thou  shalt  to-morrow 
take  a  pot  and  fill  it  with  good  wine  and  certain  drugs,  and 
boil  them  well,  and  leave  it  all  hot  in  thy  room,  and  then 
go  forth,  and  for  the  rest  I  will  provide.  Addio,  Furicchia  ! ' 
And  saying  this,  the  hen  went  back  into  her  accustomed  place. 
"So  the  next  morning,  Furicchia,  having  left  the  wine 
boiling,  went  forth  at  ten  o'clock,  and  she  was  hardly  gone 
ere  the  Signora,  her  rival,  entered  the  place  and  called  for  the 
mistress,  but  got  no  answer.  Then  she  went  into  the  house, 
but  saw  nothing  more  than  a  vast  quantity  of  eggs,  and  all  the 
while  she  heard  the  hen  singing  or  clucking : 


"«  Coccode!  Dear  me  ! 

Where  can  Furicchia  be  ? 
Coccode !  Furicchia  mine  ! 
Bring  me  quick  some  warm  red  wine  ! 
Coccode!  Three  eggs  I  have  laid  ! 
Coccode!  Now  six  for  your  trade. 
Coccode!  Now  there  are  nine, 
Bring  me  quickly  the  warm  red  wine  ! 
Coccode!  Take  them  away ; 
Many  more  for  thee  will  I  lay, 
And  thou  wilt  be  a  lady  grand, 
As  fine  as  any  in  all  the  land  j 
And  should  it  happen  that  any  one 
Drinks  of  this  wine  as  I  have  done, 
Eggs  like  me  she  will  surely  lay  ; 
That  is  the  secret,  that  is  the  way. 
Coccode!  Coccode  T 


FURICCHIA  13 

"  Now  the  Signora  heard  all  this,  and  knew  not  whence  the 
song  came,  but  she  found  the  pot  of  hot  wine  and  drank  it 
nearly  all,  but  had  not  time  to  finish  it  nor  to  escape  before 
Furicchia  returned.  And  the  latter  began  to  scold  her  visitor 
for  taking  such  liberty,  to  which  the  Signora  replied,  *  Furic- 
chia, I  came  in  here  to  buy  an  egg,  and  being  shivering  with 
cold,  and  seeing  this  hot  wine,  I  drank  it,  meaning  indeed  to 
pay  for  it.'  But  Furicchia  replied,  'Get  thee  gone;  thou 
hast  only  come  here  to  spy  out  my  secret,  and  much  good 
may  it  do  thee  ! ' 

"The  Signora  went  home,  when  she  begun  to  feel  great 
pain,  and  also,  in  spite  of  herself,  to  cluck  like  a  hen,  to  the 
amazement  of  everybody,  and  then  sang  : 

"  '  Coccode!  Che  mal  di  corpo  ! 
Coccode  I  Voglio  fa  1'uovo ! 
E  se  1'uova  non  faro, 
Di  dolore  moriro.' 

"  '  Coccode!  What  a  pain  in  my  leg ! 
Coccode!  I  must  lay  an  egg! 
And  if  my  eggs  I  cannot  lay, 
I  shall  surely  die  to-day.' 

"  Then  she  began  to  lay  eggs  indeed — tante,  tante — till  they 
nearly  filled  all  the  room,  and  truly  her  friends  were  aghast  at 
such  a  sight,  never  having  heard  of  such  a  thing  before ;  but 
she  replied,  '  Keep  quiet  \  it  is  a  secret.  I  have  found  out 
how  Furicchia  gets  her  eggs,  and  we  shall  be  as  rich  as  she.' 
And  having  laid  her  eggs,  nothing  would  do  but  she  must 
needs  hatch  them,  and  all  the  time  for  many  days  she  sat  and 
sat,  clucking  like  a  hen — coccode  /  coccode  I — and  pecking  at 
crusts  like  a  hen,  for  she  would  not  eat  in  any  other  way. 
And  so  she  sat  and  shrivelled  up  until  she  became  a  hen  in- 
deed, and  was  never  anything  else,  and  died  one.  But  when 
the  eggs  hatched,  there  came  from  them  not  chicks,  but  mice, 
which  ran  away  into  the  cellar,  and  so  ends  the  story." 

This  story  greatly  resembles  one  given  by  Peter  Gold- 
schmidt  in  "The  Witches'  and  Sorcerers'  Advocate  Over- 
thrown," published  at  Hamburg  in  1705,  and  to  the  same 
as  sung  in  Latin  song  by  a  certain  Steuccius.  The 
Italian  tale  is,  however,  far  better  told  in  every  respect, 
the  only  point  in  common  being  that  a  certain  witch  laid 


I4  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

eggs  by  means  of  a  potion,  which  produced  the  same 
effect  on  a  man.  It  is  the  well-managed  play  of  curiosity, 
gratitude,  and  character  which  make  Furicchia  so  enter- 
taining, and  there  is  nothing  in  the  heavy  German  tale 
like  the  "Song  of  the  Hen,"  or  Coccode,  which  is  a 
masterpiece  of  a  juvenile  lyric.  The  clucking  and  pecking 
at  crusts  of  the  old  woman,  as  she  gradually  passes  into 
a  hen,  is  well  imagined,  and  also  the  finale  of  the  chickens 
turned  to  mice,  who  all  run  away.  One  could  make  of 
it  a  play  for  the  nursery  or  the  stage. 

The  Mercato  Vecchio,  in  which  the  egg-wife  dwelt,  was 
a  place  of  common  resort  in  the  olden  time,  "  when  there 
was  giving  and  taking  of  talk  on  topics  temporal :  " 

"  Where  the  good  news  fleetly  flew, 
And  the  bad  news  ever  true, 
Softly  whispered,  loudly  told, 
Scalding  hot  or  freezing  cold."  x 

This  place  is  recalled  by  a  story  which  is  indeed  to  be 
found  in  the  facetiae  of  the  Florentine  Poggio,  yet  which 
holds  its  own  to  this  day  in  popular  tale-telling.  It  is 
as  follows : 

"  It  happened  once  when  Florence  was  at  war  with  the 
Duke  of  Milan,  that  a  law  was  passed  making  it  death  for 
any  one  to  speak  in  any  way  of  peace.  Now  there  was  a 
certain  Bernardo  Manetti,  a  man  di  ingegno  vivacissimo^  or  an 
extremely  ready  wit,  who  being  one  day  in  the  Mercato 
Vecchio  to  buy  something  or  other  (it  being  the  custom  of 
the  Florentines  of  those  times  to  go  in  person  to  purchase 
their  daily  food),  was  much  annoyed  by  one  of  those  begging 
friars  who  go  about  the  roads,  alia  questua,  collecting  alms, 
and  who  stand  at  street-corners  imploring  charity.  And  this 
brazen  beggar,  accosting  Bernardo,  said  to  him  : 

1  "  Le  cattive  nove  volano, 
Le  male  son  sempre  vere  ; 
Prima  1'annunzio,  poi  malanno, 
Chi  me  ne  da  una  calda,  e  chi  una  fredda." 

— Italian  Proverb. 


FURICCHIA  15 

"  ( Pax  vobiscum  !     Peace  be  unto  you  ! ' 

"  1A  chi  parlasti  di pace  ? — How  darest  thou  speak  to  me  of 
peace,  thou  traitor  and  enemy  to  Florence  ? '  cried  Bernardo  in 
well-assumed  anger.  '  Dost  thou  not  know  that  by  public 
decree  thou  may'st  lose  thy  shaven  head  for  mentioning  the 
word?  And  thou  darest  ask  me  for  alms  here  in  the  open 
market-place,  thou  traitor  to  thy  country  and  thy  God  !  Apage, 
Satanas — avaunt ! — begone  !  lest  I  be  seen  talking  to  thee  and 
taken  for  a  conspirator  myself!  Pax  indeed — pack  off  with 
you,  ere  I  hand  you  over  to  the  torturers  ! J 

"And  so  he  rid  himself  of  that  importunate  beggar." 

Apropos  of  the  egg-wife,  if  chickens  are  apropos  to 
eggs,  there  is  a  merry  tale  of  a  certain  priest,  which 
will,  I  think,  amuse  the  reader.  Like  all  good  folk,  the 
Florentines  make  fun  of  their  neighbours,  among  whom 
are  of  course  included  the  people  of  Arezzo,  and  tell  of 
them  this  story : 

"Long  long  ago,  a  certain  Bishop  Angelico  convoked  a 
Synod  at  Arezzo,  summoning  every  priest  in  his  diocese  to  be 
present ;  and  knowing  that  many  had  slipped  into  very  slovenly 
habits  as  regarded  the  sacerdotal  uniform,  made  it  a  stern  and 
strict  order  that  every  one  should  appear  in  cappa  e  cotta?-  or 
in  cloak  and  robe. 

"  Now  there  was  a  priest  who,  though  he  kept  a  well-filled 
cellar,  and  a  pretty  servant-maid,  and  a  fine  poultry-yard,  had 
none  of  these  clerical  vestments,  and  knew  not  where  to  borrow 
them  for  the  occasion ;  so  he  was  in  great  distress  and  stavasi 
molto  afflitto  in  casa  sua — sat  in  deep  affliction  in  his  home. 
And  his  maid,  who  was  a  bright  and  clever  girl,  seeing  him  so 
cast  down,  asked  him  the  cause  of  his  grief,  to  which  he  replied 
that  the  Bishop  had  summoned  him  to  appear  at  the  Synod  in 
cappa  e  cotta. 

" '  Oh,  nonsense  ! '  replied  the  good  girl.  '  Is  that  all  ?  My 
dear  master,  you  do  not  pronounce  the  words  quite  correctly, 
or  else  they  have  been  badly  reported  to  you.  It  is  not  cappa 
e  cotta  which  the  Bishop  requires,  for  assuredly  he  has  plenty 
of  such  clothes,  but  capponi  cotti,  ( good  roast  capons,'  such  as 
all  bishops  love,  and  which  he  knows  he  can  get  better  from 

1  The  cappa  is  a  cloak  with  a  hood  or  "capuchin  ; "  a  cotta  is  the  stole 
worn  by  Catholic  priests. 


16  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

the  country  priests  than  from  anybody.  And  grazie  a  Dio  ! 
there  is  nobody  in  all  Tuscany  has  better  poultry  than  ours, 
and  I  will  take  good  care  that  you  give  the  Bishop  of  the 
very  best.' 

"  Now  the  priest  being  persuaded  by  the  maid,  really  made 
his  appearance  at  the  Council  bearing  in  a  dish  well  covered 
with  a  napkin  four  of  the  finest  roasted  capons  ever  seen. 
And  with  these  he  advanced  in  pleno  concilo,  in  full  assembly 
before  the  Bishop.  The  great  man  looked  severely  at  the 
priest,  and  said : 

"  '  Where  are  thy  cappa  e  cotta  ? ' 

"  '  Excellenza,  behold  them  ! '  said  the  good  man,  uncovering 
the  dish.  *  And  though  I  say  it,  no  better  capponi  cotte  can 
be  had  in  all  our  country.' 

"The  Bishop  and  all  round  him  gazed  with  breathless 
admiration  on  the  fowls,  so  plump,  so  delicious,  so  exquisitely 
roasted,  with  lemons  ranged  round  them.  It  was  just  the 
hungry  time  of  day,  and,  in  short,  the  priest  had  made  a 
blessed  happy  blunder,  and  one  which  was  greatly  admired. 
There  was  general  applause. 

"*Figlio  mt'0/}  said  the  Bishop  with  a  smile,  'take  my 
blessing  !  Thou  alone  of  all  the  ministers  of  our  diocese  didst 
rightly  understand  the  spirit  and  meaning  of  an  episcopal 
edict.'" 


THE  LANTERNS  OF  THE  STROZZI  PALACE 

"And  what  this  man  did  was,  as  the  proverb  says,  mostrare  altnti 
luc dole  per  laterne — made  him  believe  that  fire-flies  were  lanterns — which 
means  to  deceive  any  one." — Italian  Proverbs* 

As  all  visitors  to  Florence  will  have  their  attention  called 
to  the  Strozzi  Palace,  and  its  rings  and  lanterns,  the  fol- 
lowing will  probably  prove  to  them  to  be  of  interest : 

"  The  campanelk)  or  great  iron  rings,  which  are  on  the  Strozzi 
Palace,  were  the  result  of  rivalry  with  the  Pitti  family. 

"  The  Strozzi  built  their  palace  first,  and  then  the  Pitti  said 
that  it  would  only  fill  a  corner  of  their  own  far  greater  building. 
And  when  the  latter  was  finished,  the  Strozzi,  to  be  even  with 
them,  placed  those  magnificent  campanelle  at  the  four  corners, 
and  then  the  great  lanterns  which  are  so  exquisitely  worked, 
and  these  were  made  by  Niccolo  il  Grosso,  a  very  ingenious 
but  also  very  poor  man,  who,  having  begun  the  work,  could 
not  finish  it  for  want  of  money. 

"  One  morning  when  this  Niccolo  was  sitting  on  the  stone 
bench  of  the  palace,  there  came  by  an  old  man  who  was  carry- 
ing some  onions,  and  the  artist  begged  a  few  of  these  to  eat 
with  his  bread,  telling  him  he  had  no  money.  But  the  old 
man  said,  'Take  them,  and  welcome,  for  a  free  gift,  Niccolo. 
Truly,  it  pains  me  to  see  an  excellent  artist  like  thee  starving 
for  want  of  proper  patronage.  Now  I  will  lend  thee  a  round 
sum,  which  thou  canst  repay  me  when  thou  art  in  better  luck.' 

"  '  But  tell  me,'  inquired  Niccolo,  greatly  amazed,  '  how  dost 
thou  know  who  I  am  ? ' 

"  The  old  man  replied,  '  I  know  thee,  and  that  thou  hast 
great  genius  (una  gran  testa),  and  I  find  thee  utterly  poor,  and 
unable  to  finish  the  Strozzi  lanterns. 

"  *  Now  I  wish  to  do  thee  a  service.  Go,  with  these  onions 
in  thine  hand,  and  stand  there  in  the  street  till  the  Lords  Strozzi 
go  forth,  and  see  thee  with  the  vegetables,  and  then  they  will 

17  B 


1 8  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

ask  thee  why  thou  dost  not  finish  the  lanterns.  And  then 
thou  shalt  reply,  "Signori,  because  I  must  sell  onions,  not 
being  able  otherwise  to  finish  the  lanterns,  for  truly  all  my 
art  does  not  give  me  bread."  Then  they  will  give  thee  money, 
and  after  that  return  to  me.' 

"  So  it  happened  as  the  old  man  said :  the  Signori  Strozzi, 
when  they  came  forth,  found  Niccolo  their  artist  selling  onions, 
and  gave  him  a  good  sum  of  money,  and  with  that  he  went 
back  to  the  old  man.  And  they  gave  him  a  great  sum  indeed, 
for  he  was  to  make  the  lanterns  all  of  solid  gold,  so  that  the 
palace  might  be  far  finer  than  the  Pitti. 

"  The  old  man  said,  '  Never  mind  paying  me,  but  put  an 
onion  in  your  pocket  and  study  it.'  And  this  he  did,  hence 
it  comes  that  the  tops  of  the  lanterns  are  like  onion  sprouts. 
And  Niccolo  seeing  that  he  lived  in  a  hard  and  cruel  world, 
in  order  to  be  even  with  it,  made  the  lanterns  of  iron,  though 
the  work  which  he  put  upon  it  was  like  jewellery,  so  fine  was  it, 
and  then  gilded  the  iron  and  passed  the  lanterns  off  on  the 
Signori  Strozzi  for  solid  gold,  and  was  soon  heard  off  as  being 
very  far  away  from  Florence,  in  company  with  the  good  old 
man  who  had  put  him  up  to  the  little  game  (pel giuoco). 

"  But  people  say  that  after  all  the  Strozzi  were  not  so  badly 
cheated,  for  those  onion-top  lanterns  could  not  have  been 
bought  even  in  their  time  for  their  weight  in  gold,  and  that 
they  are  worth  much  more  now." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  ingenious  tale  owes  its 
origin  to  the  iron  lanterns  having  been  at  one  time  gilt. 
These  famous  works  of  art  have  been  copied  far  and 
wide :  had  the  Strozzi  family  taken  out  and  renewed  the 
copyright  for  design  on  them,  they  might  have  found  that 
the  gold  was  a  very  good  investment,  especially  in  these 
times,  when  a  thing  of  beauty  brings  in  cash  for  ever. 
One  of  the  latest  and  prettiest  devices,  to  be  seen  in 
many  shops,  is  a  small  iron  night-lamp  in  imitation  of 
these  Strozzi  lanterns. 

The  im-moral,  or  at  least  the  concluding  sentence  of  the 
tale  is,  "  E  cost  Niccolo  se  nefuggi  a  tasche  piene — And  so 
Niccol6  fled  with  his  pockets  full  of  money."  I  spare  the 
reader  reflections  on  the  history  of  many  bankers  in 


THE  LANTERNS  OF  THE  STROZZI  PALACE       19 

Florence  and  Rome,  who  during  the  past  two  years 
followed  his  example. 

What  is  extremely  interesting  and  original  in  this 
legend  is  the  declaration  that  Niccol6  took  the  idea  of  the 
long  and  very  singular  points  on  the  lanterns  from  an 
onion.  It  recalls  the  story  of  the  acanthus  leaf  and  the 
basket  which  suggested  the  Ionic  capital.  It  was  under- 
stood by  the  narrator  that  the  old  man  who  gave  "  the 
tips  "  to  Niccol6  was  a  wizard. 

There  was  much  more  meaning  attached  to  the  lanterns 
and  rings,  such  as  Niccolo  made,  than  is  generally  known, 
as  appears  by  the  following  extract : 

"Among  the  striking  features  of  the  Florentine  palaces 
are  the  handsome  ornaments  of  bronze  or  wrought-iron  which 
adorn  the  facades  of  many  of  them.  These  were  called 
Janah  or  lumtire,  and  were  not,  as  one  would  naturally  sup- 
pose, ornaments  that  a  man  might  place  on  his  house  according 
to  his  individual  taste,  but  they  were  the  visible  testimony  of 
the  public  recognition  of  great  deeds.  On  festive  occasions, 
these  fanali  were  provided  with  great  pitch  torches,  whose 
crackling  flames  gave  a  merry  aspect  to  the  whole  neighbour- 
hood. Amerigo  Vespucci  addressed  the  account  of  one  of 
his  voyages  to  the  Gonfaloniere  Piero  Soderini,  with  whom  he 
had  formerly  been  on  intimate  terms,  and  the  latter  procured 
a  decree  of  the  Republic,  in  accordance  with  which  fanali  were 
sent  to  the  family  palace  of  the  Vespucci,  and  kept  burning 
day  and  night  for  three  days. 

"  The  most  beautiful  of  all  the  Florentine  fanali ...  are 
those  which  adorn  the  corners  of  the  famous  Strozzi  Palace. 
They  are  of  wrought-iron,  and  were  made  by  a  smith  who 
enjoyed  a  local  celebrity,  not  only  on  account  of  his  masterly 
work,  but  also  because  he  carried  on  his  business  on  a  strictly 
cash  basis ;  nay,  went  further,  and  refused  to  work  for  any 
one  who  did  not  prepay,  in  part  at  least,  for  his  order.  Thus 
he  received  the  name  of  Caparra,  or  Earnest-money."  — 
Florentine  Life,  by  W.  B.  Scaife,  p.  58. 

There  is  one  thing  in  this  legend  which  alone  would 
seem  to  guarantee  its  being  an  authentic  or  old  tradition. 


20  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

In  it  Niccolo  appears  as  a  man  who  is  eminently  grasping, 
and  who  takes  care  to  get  his  money  in  advance.  And 
he  was  in  reality  so  noted  for  this,  that,  as  Scaife  declares, 
he  went  further  than  dealing  on  a  cash  basis — and  so 
got  the  nickname  of  Caparra,  or  the  Pledge — so  well  did 
he  know  the  value  of  cash.  //  martel  d'argento  rompe 
le  porte  diferro,  or — 

"  A  hammer  of  silver,  as  we  see, 
Breaks  the  iron  gates  of  poverty." 


THE  GOBLIN  OF  LA   VIA  DEL  CORNO 

"  Oh  for  one  blast  of  that  dread  horn, 
On  Fontarabian  echoes  borne, 
When  Roland  brave  and  Olivier, 
And  every  paladin  and  peer 

At  Roncesvalles  died."—  Walter  Scott. 

"The  Korrigan  who  ever  wears  a  horn." 

THE  Via  del  Corno  is  a  narrow  street  passing  from  the 
Via  del  Leone.  I  have  found  the  following  story  in 
reference  to  the  origin  of  its  name,  which,  if  not  authentic, 
is  at  least  amusing  and  original : 

LA  VIA  DEL  CORNO. 

"There  was  in  what  is  now  known  as  the  Via  del  Corno 
an  ancient  palace,  which  a  long  time  ago  was  inhabited  only 
by  a  certain  gentleman  and  a  goblin.1 

"  Nor  had  he  any  servants,  because  of  all  who  came,  none 
remained  more  than  one  day  for  fear  of  the  folletto.  And 
as  this  spread  far  and  wide,  people  kept  away  from  the  Via 
del  Corno  after  dark  ;  but  as  this  also  kept  away  thieves,  and 
the  goblin  did  all  the  house-work,  the  master  was  all  the  better 
pleased.  Only  on  one  point  did  the  two  differ,  and  that  was 
the  point  of  morality.  Here  the  goblin  was  extremely  strict, 
and  drew  the  line  distinctly.  Several  times,  as  was  the  custom 
in  those  wicked  days,  the  Signore  attempted  to  introduce  a 
lady-friend  to  the  palazzo,  but  the  goblin  all  night  long,  when 
not  busied  in  pulling  the  sheets  from  the  fair  sinner,  was 
industriously  occupied  in  strewing  nettles  or  burrs  under  her, 
or  tickling  the  soles  of  her  feet  with  a  pen ;  and  then  anon, 

1  Folletto.  This,  which  meant  originally  an  airy  tricksy  sprite,  is  now 
applied  not  only  to  fairies  and  goblins  in  general,  but  also  to  every  kind 
of  supernatural  apparition.  I  have  a  book  in  which  even  comets  are 
described  v&folletti. 


22  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

when,  sinking  to  sleep,  she  hoped  for  some  remission  of  the 
tease,  he  would  begin  to  play  interminable  airs  on  a  horn. 
It  is  true  that  he  played  beautifully,  like  no  earthly  musician, 
but  even  enchanting  airs  may  be  annoying  when  they  prevent 
sleep. 

"  Nor  did  the  lord  fare  the  better,  even  when,  inspired  by 
higher  motives,  he  'would  a-wooing  go.'  For  one  lady  or 
another  had  heard  of  the  goblin,  and  when  they  had  not,  it 
always  happened  that  by  some  mysterious  means  or  other  the 
match  was  broken  off. 

"  Meantime  the  life  led  by  the  Signore  was  rather  peculiar, 
as  he  slept  nearly  all  day,  sallied  forth  for  an  hour  or  two  to 
exercise,  go  to  a  barber's,  make  his  small  purchases,  or  hear 
the  news,  supped  at  a  trattoria,  and  then  returning  home,  sat 
all  night  listening  to  the  goblin  as  he  played  divinely  on  the 
horn,  or  blew  it  himself,  which  he  did  extremely  well,  toped 
and  hob-nobbed  with  his  familiar,  who  was  a  great  critic  of 
wine,  and,  as  the  proverb  says,  *  Buon  vino  fiaba  lunga — Good 
wine,  long  tales ' — they  told  one  another  no  end  of  merry  and 
marvellous  stories  ;  and  as  //  vin  fa  cantare,  it  makes  man  sing, 
they  also  sang  duets,  solos,  and  glees.  And  when  the  weather 
was  ill,  or  chilly,  or  rainy,  or  too  hot,  they  cured  it  with  Chianti, 
according  to  a  medical  prescription  laid  down  in  sundry  rare 
old  works : 

"  Nebbia,  nebbia,  mattutina, 
Che  ti  levi  la  mattina  ? 
Questa  tazza  cli  buon  vino, 
Fatta  d'una  marzamina, 
Contra  te  sia  medecina  ! ' 

"  *  Cloudy  sky  i'  the  morning  early, 
What  will  make  you  vanish  fairly? 
Ah  !  this  goblet  of  good  wine, 
Essence  of  the  blessed  vine, 
Shall  be  for  thee  a  medicine  ! ' 

"Then  they  played  chess,  cards,  cribbage,  drole,  ecarte, 
Pope  Joan,  bo,  brag,  casino,  thirty-one,  put,  snip-snap-snorem, 
lift-em-up,  tear-the-rag,  smoke,  blind-hookey,  bless-your-grand- 
mother,  Polish-bank,  seven-up,  beggar-my  neighbour,  patience, 
old-maid,  fright,  baccarat,  belle-en-chemise,  bang-up,  howling- 
Moses,  bluff,  swindle-Dick,  go-it-rags,  ombre  or  keep-dark, 
morelles,  go-bang,  goose,  dominoes,  loto,  morra  or  push-pin. 
And  when  extra  hands  were  wanted  they  came,  but  all  that 
came  were  only  fairy  hands,  short  at  the  wrist,  the  goblin 


THE  GOBLIN  OF  LA    VIA  DEL  CORNO  23 

remarking  that  it  saved  wine  not  to  have  mouths,  et  cetera. 
Then  they  had  long  and  curious  and  exceedingly  weighty 
debates  as  to  the  laws  of  the  games  and  fair  play,  not  forgetting 
meanwhile  to  sample  all  the  various  wines  ever  sung  by  Redi.1 
So  they  got  on,  the  Signore  realising  that  one  near  friend  is 
worth  a  hundred  distant  relations. 

"  Now  it  befell  one  night  that  the  goblin,  having  seen  the 
Signore  take  off  a  pint  of  good  old  strong  Barolo  very  neatly 
and  carefully,  without  taking  breath  or  winking,  exclaimed  with 
a  long,  deep  sigh  : 

"  'Thou  art  a  gallant  fellow,  a  right  true  boon  companion, 
and  it  grieves  me  to  the  heart  to  think  that  thou  art  doomed 
to  be  drowned  to-morrow.' 

"'Oh  you  be— doctored !'  replied  the  Signore.  'There 
isn't  water  enough  in  the  Arno  now  to  drown  a  duck,  unless 
she  held  her  head  under  in  a  half-pint  puddle.' 

"  The  goblin  went  to  the  window,  took  a  look  at  the  stars, 
whistled  and  said : 

'"As  I  expected,  it  is  written  that  you  are  to  be  drowned 
to-morrow,  unless  you  carry  this  horn  of  mine  hung  to  your 
neck  all  day. 

"  *  Quando  ti  trovi  nel  pericolo, 
Suona  questo  corno  piccolo, 
E  tu  sarai  salvato, 
Non  sarai  affogato  ! ' 

"  *  If  thou  find'st  thyself  forlorn, 
Blow  aloud  this  little  horn, 
And  thou  wilt  be  safe  and  sound, 
For  with  it  thou'lt  not  be  drowned.' 

"  Saying  this,  he  solemnly  handed  the  horn  to  the  cavalier, 
drank  off  a  goblet  of  muscato,  wiped  his  lips,  bowed  a  cere- 
monious good-night,  and,  as  was  his  wont,  vanished  with 
dignity  up  the  chimney. 

"  The  gentleman  was  more  troubled  by  this  prediction  than 
he  liked  to  admit.  I  need  not  say  that  the  next  day  he  did 
not  go  near  the  Arno,  though  it  was  as  dry  as  a  bone ;  nay, 
he  kept  out  of  a  bath,  and  was  almost  afraid  to  wash  his  face. 

"At  last  he  got  the  fancy  that  some  enemies  or  villains 
would  burst  into  his  lonely  house,  bind  him  hand  and  foot, 
carry  him  far  away,  and  drown  him  in  some  lonely  stream,  or 

1  Redi's  Bacco  in  Toscana  is  known  to  the  most  ignorant  in  Florence, 
there  being  very  cheap  editions  of  it  constantly  sold. 


24  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

perhaps  in  the  sea.  He  remembered  just  such  a  case.  We 
all  remember  just  such  cases  when  we  don't  want  to.  That 
was  it,  decidedly. 

"  Then  he  had  a  happy  thought.  There  was  a  little  hiding- 
chamber,  centuries  old,  in  the  palazzo,  known  only  to  himself, 
with  a  concealed  door.  He  would  go  and  hide  there.  He 
shouted  for  joy,  and  when  he  entered  the  room,  he  leaped  with 
a  great  bound  from  the  threshold  of  the  door,  down  and  over 
three  or  four  steps,  into  the  middle  of  the  little  room. 

"  Now  he  did  not  know  that  in  the  cantina  or  cellar  below 
this  hiding-place  there  was  an  immense  tino,  or  vat,  contain- 
ing hundreds  of  barrels  of  wine,  such  as  are  used  to  hold  the 
rough  wine  ere  it  is  drawn  off  and  '  made ; '  nor  that  the 
floor  was  extremely  decayed,  so  that  when  he  came  down  on  it 
with  a  bounce,  it  gave  way,  and  he  found  himself  in  the  cellar 
over  head  and  ears  in  wine. 

"  And,  truly,  for  a  minute  he  deemed  that  he  was  drowning 
in  earnest.  And  the  sides  of  the  vat  were  so  high  that  he 
could  not  climb  out.  But  while  swimming  and  struggling  for 
life,  he  caught  between  his  thumb  and  finger  at  a  nail  in  the 
side,  and  to  this  he  held,  crying  as  loud  as  he  could  shout  for 
aid.  But  no  one  came,  and  he  was  just  beginning  to  despair, 
when  he  thought  of  the  horn  ! 

"  It  still  hung  from  his  neck,  and  pouring  out  the  wine,  he 
blew  on  it,  and  there  came  forth  such  a  tremendous,  appalling, 
and  unearthly  blast  as  he  of  himself  could  never  have  blown. 
It  rang  far  and  wide  all  over  Florence,  it  was  heard  beyond 
Fiesole,  it  wakened  the  dead  in  old  Etrurian  graves,  for  an 
instant,  to  think  they  had  been  called  by  Tinia  to  meet  the 
eleven  gods ;  it  caused  all  the  folletti^  fate,  diavoli,  strege,  and 
maliardi  to  stop  for  an  instant  their  deviltries  or  delights. 
For  it  was  the  Great  Blast  of  the  Horn  of  the  Fairies,  which 
only  plays  second  fiddle  to  the  last  trump.1 

"  And  at  that  sound  all  Florence  came  running  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  The  Grand  Duke  and  his  household  came ; 
the  Council  of  the  Eight  burst  their  bonds,  and  left  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio;  everybody  came,  and  they  fished  out  the 
Signore,  and  listened  with  awe  to  his  tale.  The  priests  said 
that  the  goblin  was  San  Zenobio,  the  more  liberal  swore  it 
was  Crescenzio,  the  people  held  to  plain  San  Antonino.  The 
Signore  became  a  great  man. 

1  "Can  a  horn  play  second  fiddle?"  inquires  Flaxius.  "This  comes  of 
trying  to  improve  on  the  simple  Italian  text." 


THE  GOBLIN  OF  LA   VIA  DEL  CORNO  25 

" '  My  son,'  said  the  goblin  to  him  in  confidence  the  follow- 
ing evening,  as  they  sat  over  their  wine  (here  I  follow  the  text 
of  Maddalena),  'this  is  our  last  night  together.  Thou  art 
saved,  and  I  have  fulfilled  my  duty  to  thee.  Once  I,  too,  was 
a  man  like  thee,  and  in  that  life  thou  didst  save  mine  by 
rescuing  me  from  assassins.  And  I  swore  to  watch  over  thee 
in  every  peril,  and  bring  thee  to  a  happy  end.' 

"  '  II  momento  e  arrivato  ; 
Addio,  Via  del  Corno  ! 
Addio,  palazzo,  addio  ! 
Addio,  padrone,  nel  altro  mondo ! ' 

"  '  The  final  hour  has  come  for  me  ; 
Street  of  the  Horn,  farewell  to  thee  ! 
Farewell,  O  palace,  farewell,  O  street  ! 
My  lord,  in  another  world  we'll  meet.' 

"  Then  the  goblin  told  the  Signore  that  he  would  ere  long 
contract  a  happy  marriage,  and  that  it  was  for  this  that  he  had 
hitherto  kept  him  from  forming  alliances  which  would  have 
prevented  it ;  and  that  if  in  future  he  should  ever  be  in  great 
need  of  assistance,  to  sound  the  horn,  and  he  would  come  to 
him,  but  that  this  must  always  be  in  the  palace  alone  after 
midnight.  And  having  said  this  he  vanished. 

"The  Signore  grieved  for  a  long  time  at  the  loss  of  his 
goblin  friend,  but  he  married  happily,  as  had  been  predicted, 
and  his  life  was  long  and  prosperous.  So  he  put  the  horn 
in  his  shield,  and  you  may  see  it  to  this  day  on  the  Church 
of  Santa  Maria  Novella.  And  so  it  was  that  the  Via  del  Corno 
got  its  name." 

"  From  which  we  may  learn,"  saith  Flaxius,  "  that 
wherever  a  man  is  appointed  to  be  on  a  certain  day, 
there  will  the  man  be  found.  Therefore  do  thou,  O 
reader,  so  manage  it  that  wherever  thou  art  appointed  to 
be,  thou  canst  get  well  out  of  it.  For  even  Fate  smiles 
when  it  desires  to  do  so." 


FRATE   GIOCONDO,   THE  MONK  OF 
SANTA  MARIA  NOVELLA 

"In  illo  tempore — no — in  diebus  Hits,  che  i  frati  sogliono  percorrere  il 
contado  delle  terre  e  delle  citta  per  far  proviste  alia  barba  degli  scimuniti 
d'ogni  genere  pappatorio,  vale  dir  di  grano,  formentone,  legumi,  mosto, 
cacio,  olio,  canape,  lino,  uova  et  cetera— un  certo  fra  Zeffiro,  se  ne  gira 
alia  volta  d  un  villagio  e  tenevagli  compagnia  il  suo  ciucarello  che  carica 
gia  a  doppio  sacchetto." — L'Asino  e  il  suo  Frate,  Racconli  Piacevoli,  1864. 

"Und  sie  war  gar  sehr  erstannet  uber  die  Adresse  und  List  dieses 
Munchleins." — Luslige  Thaten  des  Kloster-bruders  Hannes  von  Lehnin, 
A.D.  1589. 

"  Monachus  in  claustro 
Non  valet  ova  dua, 
Sed  extra — bene  valet  triginta." — Rabelais. 

AMONG  the  monks  of  Santa  Maria  Novella  in  ancient 
days  was  one  known  as  Frate  Giocondo,  who  was  truly 
of  the  kind  who  are  of  little  use  at  home,  or  at  any  steady 
or  reputable  calling,  but  who  was  profitable  enough  when 
scouring  the  country  on  the  loose,  blarneying  and  begging 
from  the  good  wives,  giving  counsel  to  the  peasants,  and 
profitable  advice,  while  he  ate  their  chickens  and  drank 
their  wine,  chucking  all  the  pretty  girls  under  their  chins, 
or  sub  silentio,  and  making  himself  sociable,  edifying, 
amusing,  or  holy — according  to  circumstances.  Of  whom 
it  could  be  truly  said  : 

"  Monaco  in  convento 
Non  vale  niente, 
Ma  fuori  vale  venti." 

"  Monk  in  monastery 
Is  not  worth  a  cherry  ; 
But  abroad  when  sent,  he 
Often  is  worth  twenty." 

As  a  preaching  friar  of  Saint  Dominic,  truly  Brother 

Giocondo  was  not  a  success,  but  as  a  beggar  he  beat 

26 


FRATE  GIOCONDO  27 

all  the  Zoccoloni  out  of  Rome,1  and  that  is  saying  a 
great  deal.  For  there  never  was  a  friar  with  such  an 
oiled  and  honeyed  tongue,  with  which  he  could  flatter 
and  wheedle,  tell  legends  of  the  saints,  witches,  or  goblins 
by  the  hour,  give  all  the  gossip  going  ;  nor  was  he  above 
selling  his  collections,  or  trading  donkeys,  or  taking  a 
hand  at  a  game  of  cards,  or  singing  to  a  lute,  or  even 
fiddling  to  a  dance — so  that,  being  a  great,  burly,  hand- 
some, merry-eyed  knave,  he  got  on  marvellously  well  in 
the  world,  his  jests  being  reported  even  in  Siena. 

Now  one  evening  he  was  returning  home  to  Santa 
Maria  Novella  dalla  cercha,  "  from  the  quest,"  and  found 
himself  still  a  few  miles  from  Florence.  And  good  for- 
tune had  favoured  him  marvellously  that  day,  for  his  ass 
bore  two  panniers  which  were  ben  carichi  dogni  sorta  di 
grazia  di  Dio — "  stuffed  full  with  all  sorts  of  mercies  of 
God,"  such  as  bags  of  wheat,  maize,  wheat-meal,  chickens, 
oil,  cheese,  butter,  wine,  truffles,  onions,  geese,  turnips, 
sausages,  bread,  ducks ;  in  short,  Signore,  as  I  said,  there 
was  ogni  sorta  di  grazia  di  Dio,  and  enough  to  support  a 
poor  family  for  a  month. 

Now,  darkness  coming  on,  and  rain  falling,  the  Friar 
stopped  at  a  lonely  house,  where  he  neither  knew  the 
people  nor  was  known  to  them,  and  begged  for  a  night's 
lodging.  The  master  of  the  place  was  a  well-to-do  person, 
but  a  great  knave,  and  no  sooner  had  he  perceived  that 
the  monk  had  such  a  plentiful  stock  of  provisions,  than 
he  saw  his  way  to  give  all  his  neighbours  a  splendid 
feast  at  no  expense  to  himself,  at  which  he  could  not  fail 
to  relieve  some  of  his  guests  of  their  money. 

Now  this  rogue  had  a  daughter  who  was  scaltra  e  bene 
affilata — shrewd  and  sharp  as  a  razor,  one  who  could 
teach  cats  to  see  in  the  dark,  and  who  had  grown  to 
villainy  from  her  babyhood,  even  as  a  reed  shoots  up- 

1  Zoccokni  or  Zoccolanti,  sandalled  friars  of  the  lowest  order,  who  are 
indeed  common  beggars. 


28  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

wards.  And  she  only  caught  a  wink  from  her  good  father, 
which  glanced  off  on  to  the  load  of  the  friar's  donkey, 
to  understand  the  whole  game,  and  what  was  expected 
of  her. 

You  must  know,  Signore  Carlo,  that  the  wench  was 
very  good-looking — bad  wine  in  a  silver  cup,  pretty  to 
look  at,  but  vile  to  sup — and  had  all  the  sweet,  innocent, 
simple  look  of  a  saint,  and  she  made  up  to  Frate  Giocondo 
like  a  kitten  to  a  child,  which  he  took  in  no  wise  amiss, 
being  used  to  such  conquests.  And  who  so  flattering 
and  fawning  as  they  all  were  on  Brother  Giocondo ;  how 
they  laughed  at  his  jests,  and  seemed  to  be  in  the  last 
agonies  of  delight;  but  winked  at  one  another  withal, 
for  there  were  six  lusty  brothers  or  cousins  in  the  family, 
who,  in  case  of  need,  did  the  heavy  dragging  out,  or 
advanced  the  last  argument  with  clubs. 

By-and-by,  as  the  night  wore  on,  the  black-eyed 
baggage  stole  away  and  hid  herself  in  the  room  allotted 
to  the  Friar,  though  with  no  intention  to  break  the 
seventh — but  that  against  stealing — as  you  will  see.  For 
when  the  good  Giocondo  went  to  bed,  which  he  did  in 
full  dress,  he  knew  not  that  she  was  there.  And  as  soon 
as  he  began  to  snore,  she  tapped  gently  on  the  wall 
three  times,  and  then  went  and  laid  herself  down  softly 
by  the  Friar,  who  did  not  awake.  At  which  all  the  band 
came  bursting  in  with  torches  and  staves,  and  began  to 
beat  the  victim,  reviling  and  cursing  him  for  having  de- 
luded the  poor  child,  so  that  there  was  a  fearful  fracasso — 
a  great  riot — but  they  left  the  door  open,  through  which 
the  pious  Giocondo  bolted,  and  none  pursued,  as  they 
had  already  secured  his  provisions. 

Now  Giocondo  shrewdly  noted  this,  and  at  once  under- 
stood that  he  had  been  as  shrewdly  robbed,  and  that  by 
such  a  trick  as  left  no  door  open  to  return  and  claim  his 
property.  So  he  quietly  mounted  his  ass  and  rode  away, 
and  returning  to  the  convent,  thought  it  all  over,  till  he 


PRATE  GIOCONDO  29 

came  to  a  device  to  revenge  himself.     For  he  was  one  of 
those  who  was  never  bit  by  a  wolf  but  what  he  had  his  skin. 

So  he  let  a  long  time  pass  by,  and  then  went  to  work. 
First  of  all  he  got  two  jars,  and  paid  a  contadino  to  catch 
for  him  as  many  living  vipers  as  would  fill  them  both, 
saying  it  was  for  the  apothecary  of  his  convent  to  make 
tcriaca  or  Venetian  treacle,  which  is  a  cure  for  serpents' 
bites.  And  then  he  disguised  himself  like  a  lord's  mes- 
senger, darkening  his  face,  and  putting  on  long  curling 
locks,  with  a  bold  impudent  air,  with  cloak  and  feather, 
sword  and  dagger ;  truly  no  one  would  ever  have  known 
him.  And  in  this  guise  he  went  again  to  the  Albergo  de* 
Ladrij  or  Thieves'  Den,  asking  once  more  for  lodging, 
which  was  cheerfully  granted. 

Now  the  part  which  he  played,  and  that  to  perfection, 
was  that  of  a  foolish  gasconading  servant;  nor  had  he 
been  long  in  the  house  ere  he  informed  his  host  in  con- 
fidence that  he  served  a  great  lord  who  was  in  love  with 
a  married  lady  in  Florence,  and  to  win  her  good  graces 
had  sent  her  two  jars  full  of  honey  or  conserves,  but  that 
there  was  in  each  a  hundred  crowns  in  gold,  of  which  he 
was  to  privately  inform  the  lady,  lest  her  husband  should 
suspect  the  truth  ;  adding  artfully,  "  But  i'  faith,  if  I  were 
to  steal  the  whole  myself  and  run  away,  my  lord  would 
never  pursue  me,  so  fearful  is  he  lest  the  thing  should  be 
found  out ;  and  even  if  I  were  to  be  robbed,  one  could 
do  nothing." 

And  as  he  said  this  he  saw  the  knave  give  a  wink  to 
his  daughter,  and  knew  very  well  what  it  meant,  but  pre- 
tended to  take  no  notice  of  it.  So  all  went  as  before,  and 
the  girl  stole  into  his  room  and  hid  herself.  But  he, 
who  was  prepared  for  everything,  when  he  retired  took 
from  his  pocket  two  or  three  large  screws  and  a  screw- 
driver, and  closed  the  great  strong  door  so  that  it  would 
resist  a  hard  assault,  and  left  the  window  open  so  that  he 
could  easily  escape,  and  so  went  to  bed. 


30  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Then  the  girl,  when  she  thought  he  was  asleep,  gave 
the  signal,  and  the  thieves  tried  to  burst  in,  but  could 
not.  And  Friar  Giocondo,  jumping  up,  gave  the  girl  such 
a  beating  as  she  had  never  heard  of,  abusing  her  all  the 
time  as  a  song  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  thrashing, 
till  at  last,  when  he  saw  they  were  really  coming  in,  he 
jumped  through  the  window,  ran  to  the  stable,  and  find- 
ing there  a  fine  horse,  saddled  it  in  haste  and  rode  away 
like  the  wind. 

The  thieves  were  so  intent  on  the  jars  that  they  paid 
no  heed  to  anything  else,  not  even  to  the  girl,  who  was 
raging  mad  at  her  father  for  having  exposed  her  to  such 
danger.  So  they  got  two  deep  plates,  and  opened  both 
jars  at  once  to  pour  the  honey  out,  when  lo !  there  came 
swarming  forth  the  vipers,  hissing,  and  squirming,  and 
darting  out  their  tongues  like  so  many  devils.  At  which 
sight  they  all  fled  in  fear,  the  girl  first,  nor  did  she  stop 
till  she  got  to  Fiesole,  where,  in  great  terror,  she  (fearing 
for  her  soul)  told  the  whole  story  to  everybody  and  the 
monks. 

The  thief  went  to  the  stable,  but  found  his  horse  gone, 
and  so  had  to  content  himself  with  Giocondo's  donkey, 
on  which,  fearing  the  pursuit  of  justice,  he  rode  away,  to 
be  hanged  somewhere  else.  And  the  Abbot  of  Santa 
Maria  Novella  cheerfully  absolved  Brother  Giocondo  for 
stealing  the  horse — and  accepted  it  as  a  graceful  gift, 
or  in  recompense  for  the  load  of  provisions  which  had 
been  lost. 

"  Thus  'twas  with  all  of  them  it  sped, 
And  the  Abbot  came  out  one  horse  ahead  !  " 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  CROCE  AL  TREBBIO 

"The  bell  in  the  Bargello  called  the  Montanara  obtained  the  name  of 
the  Campana  delle  Anne  because  it  was  the  signal  for  citizens  to  lay  aside 
their  weapons  and  retire  home." — Harems  "  Cities  of  Central  Italy. " 

"  Where  towers  are  crushed,  and  temples  fair  unfold 
A  new  magnificence  that  vies  with  old, 
Firm  in  its  pristine  majesty  hath  stood 
A  votive  column." —  Wordsworth^  "  Pillar  of  Trajan" 

VERY  near  to  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Novella  is  the 
small  piazza  or  open  place  of  the  Croce  al  Trebbio.  This 
is  a  column  with  a  crucifix,  the  whole  being  of  beautiful 
proportions  and  of  a  strikingly  romantic  character.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  raised  to  commemorate  a  victory  of 
"that  sanguinary  fanatic  Saint  Peter  Martyr"  over  the 
Paterini.  "The  Croce  al  Trebbio,"  says  Leader  Scott, 
"of  the  year  1244,  is  a  work  of  the  Pisan  school,  but 
whether  it  is  by  Niccolo  or  Giovanni  Pisani,  who  were 
in  Florence  about  that  epoch,  there  is  nothing  to  show. 
There  was 1  a  curious  Latin  inscription  in  Gothic  letters, 
which  began:  Sanctus  Ambrosius  cum  Sancto  Zenobio 
propter  grande  mysterium  hanc  crucem — and  went  on  to 
say  that  it  was  reconstructed  by  the  bishops  of  Florence 
and  of  Aquileia  in  August  1308.  It  is  evident  that  the 
connection  of  the  cross  with  Saint  Peter  Martyr  is  mere 
conjecture,  the  Italian  authorities  say  che  si  crede,  'be- 
lieved' to  be  erected  on  the  spot  where  a  victory  was 
gained  over  the  Paterini.  If  this  were  so,  where  is  the 
mystery  referred  to  in  the  inscription  ?  " 

The  legend,  which  was  after  long  inquiry  recovered  by 
my  collector,  distinctly  describes  the  reconstruction  of  the 

1  The  partial  inscription  referred  to  is  still  on  the  column. 
3* 


32  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

cross,  and  as  certainly  sets  forth  a  mysterium  magnum 
with  an  apparition  of  the  Virgin  on  this  very  spot,  which 
would  have  assuredly  caused  a  pillar,  if  not  a  church,  to 
be  erected  in  the  thirteenth  century.  The  story  of  this 
mystery  is  as  follows  : 

LA  CROCK  AL  TREBBIO. 

"  Where  the  Croce  al  Trebbio  now  stands,  was  in  very  old 
times  a  great  palace  occupied  by  one  of  the  most  ancient 
families  of  Florence.  And  when  it  died  out,  there  came  into 
the  house  three  families,  but  none  could  remain  there,  being 
so  terrified  with  fearful  sounds  and  an  apparition. 

"It  was  the  custom  in  those  days  in  Florence  to  ring  a 
bell  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  which  was  a  signal  for  every  citizen 
to  go  home  at  once ;  therefore,  after  that  hour  no  one  was  seen 
in  the  streets  except  police  guards,  military  patrols,  and  riotous 
young  men,  whom  the  former  aimed  at  arresting.  It  often 
happened  that  such  irregular  folk  took  refuge  in  the  old 
palazzo,  but  if  they  remained  there  one  night,  they  had  enough 
of  it,  and  never  returned,  so  great  was  the  horror  which  they 
were  sure  to  feel. 

"The  first  occurrence  which  gave  the  place  a  bad  name  was 
as  follows  :  Some  time  after  the  death  of  the  last  of  the  old  line 
of  Signori  who  had  occupied  the  palace,  and  the  three  families 
spoken  of  had  come  into  it,  on  the  first  night  at  midnight 
they  heard  some  one  put  a  key  in  the  house-door,  open  the 
same  with  great  noise,  and  come  storming  and  swearing  up 
the  stairs  into  the  great  dining-hall.  Then  there  entered  a  tall 
and  magnificently  dressed  gentleman,  of  very  handsome  and 
distinguished  appearance,  but  his  face  was  deadly  pale,  his  eyes 
had  a  terrible  gleam,  and  it  seemed  as  if  a  light  bluish  flame 
flickered  and  crept  about  him,  ever  rising  and  vanishing  like 
small  serpents. 

"  And  entering,  he  began  to  scold  and  blaspheme  in  a 
diabolical  manner,  as  if  at  servants  whom  he  was  accustomed 
to  have  promptly  at  his  call,  saying,  '  Birbanti  di  servitori — you 
scoundrelly  waiters — you  have  not  got  supper  ready  for  me, 
nor  laid  the  tables.'  Saying  this,  he  seized  on  plates  and 
glasses,  and  dashing  them  down  violently,  broke  them  in  mad 
rage.  Then  he  entered  the  best  bedroom  in  the  house,  where 
some  one  lay  asleep,  and  this  man  he  maltreated  and  hurled 
forth,  saying  that  the  bed  was  his  own. 


THE  LEGEND  OP  THE  CROCE  AL  TREBBIO       33 

"  And  if  after  that  any  one  dared  to  sleep  in  the  old  palazzo, 
he  was  found  there  dead  in  the  morning,  or  else  lived  but  a 
few  days.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  no  one  would  inhabit  it ; 
nay,  all  the  houses  round  about  began  to  be  deserted,  and  the 
whole  neighbourhood  regarded  it  as  a  pest.  And  from  all 
this  they  were  relieved  by  a  marvellously  strange  occurrence 
and  a  great  miracle. 

"  There  was  a  gentleman  who  was  very  pious,  honourable, 
and  brave,  a  good  man  at  every  point,  but  wretchedly  poor, 
so  that  he  with  his  eight  children  and  wife  had  all  been  turned 
into  the  street,  because  he  could  not  pay  his  rent. 

"  Then  in  his  distress  he  went  to  the  city  council  and  begged 
for  some  kind  of  relief  or  employment ;  and  they  being  much 
concerned  at  the  time  about  the  haunted  palazzo,  knowing  him 
to  be  a  man  who  would  face  the  devil,  with  little  to  fear  on 
account  of  his  integrity,  proposed  to  him  to  occupy  the  build- 
ing, adding  that  he  and  his  family  should  every  day  be  supplied 
with  food  and  wine  gratis,  and  that  if,  as  was  generally  supposed, 
there  was  hidden  treasure  in  the  palace,  and  he  could  find  it, 
he  should  be  welcome  to  keep  it. 

"  To  which  this  brave  man  willingly  assented,  and  at  once 
went  his  way  to  the  haunted  palace.  But  while  on  the  road 
he  obtained  olive  sprigs,  salt,  and  frankincense,  also  certain 
images  of  saints,  and  then  with  much  holy  water  sprinkled  all 
the  rooms,  stairs,  and  cellars,  praying  withal.1 

"  And  the  first  night  there  was  again  heard  the  grating  of 
the  key  in  the  lock,  the  crash  of  the  door,  the  rapid  heavy 
footfe1!,  and  the  spirit  appeared  with  the  waving  plume  of  flame 
on  his  splendid  beretta  or  cap,  when  suddenly  he  was  checked 
and  could  go  no  farther,  because  the  hall  had  been  blessed, 
yes,  and  thoroughly.  Then  the  spectre  began  to  bellow  and 
roar,  and  utter  whistling  screams  and  all  horrible  sounds,  worse 
than  a  wild  beast. 

"  But  the  new  master  of  the  house  did  not  let  fear  overcome 
him  in  the  least,  and  the  next  day  he  renewed  the  sprinkling 
and  blessing,  and  finding  there  was  a  chapel  in  the  palace,  he 
called  in  a  priest,  who  there  read  a  mass  for  the  soul  of  the 
ghost,  so  that  he  might  rest  in  peace. 

"Now  there  was  a  beautiful  little  garden  attached  to  the 


1  This  is  strikingly  like  the  ceremony  for  the  same  purpose  used  by  the 
ancient  Romans,  the  object  in  both  being  to  frighten  away  evil  spirits, 
Vide  "  Etruscan  Roman  Remains,"  by  C.  G.  Leland,  p.  305. 

C 


34  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

palace,  and  the  children  of  the  new  tenant  were  delighted  to 
play  in  it. 

"  And  in  the  middle  of  the  garden  they  found  a  cross  with 
a  Christ  on  it,  and  the  cross  had  been  shattered.  But  the 
children  took  the  pieces  and  carried  them  one  by  one  into 
the  chamber  where  no  one  dared  to  sleep,  and  there  they  put 
them  piously  together,  and  dressed  a  little  altar  before  it,  and 
began  to  sing  hymns. 

"  But  while  they  were  thus  singing  in  their  simple  devotion, 
wishing  to  aid  their  father,  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
a  lady  entered  whose  face  was  concealed  in  a  veil,  but  who 
seemed  to  be  weeping  as  she  beheld  them,  and  she  said, 
1  Children,  keep  ever  as  you  are ;  always  be  good  and  love  God, 
and  He  will  love  you ! ' 

"Then  she  continued,  'The  master  of  this  house  was  a 
gambler  and  a  blasphemer ;  when  he  lost  money  at  gambling 
he  would  return  home  and  beat  this  image  of  Christ,  till  one 
night,  being  in  a  mad  rage,  he  broke  it  and  threw  it  into  the 
garden.' 

"  '  But  soon  after  that  he  fell  ill,  and  knowing  that  he  was 
dying,  he  buried  all  his  treasure  in  the  garden.  Love  God, 
and  you  shall  find  it.  So  he  died,  blaspheming  and  con- 
demned. Love  God,  and  He  will  love  you ! '  And  saying 
this,  she  vanished. 

"  The  children,  all  astonished,  ran  to  their  father  and 
mother,  and  told  them  that  a  beautiful  lady  had  visited  them, 
and  what  she  had  said. 

"Then  they  said  to  the  children,  'You  must  indeed  be 
always  good,  for  that  Lady  who  spoke  to  you  was  the  Holy 
Virgin,  who  will  always  protect  you.'  And  then  the  father 
called  in  a  priest  to  say  midnight  mass  at  the  time  when  the 
spirit  would  appear.  And  he  came,  and  said,  '  I  am  he  who 
broke  the  cross,  and  for  that  I  was  damned ! '  Then  the 
priest  began  to  sprinkle  holy  water,  with  exorcisms,  when  all 
at  once  the  accursed  one  disappeared  in  a  tremendous,  over- 
whelming crash  of  thunder,  and  the  whole  palace  fell  to  gravel 
and  dust — there  was  not  left  one  stone  standing  on  the  other, 
save  the  cross  which  the  children  had  repaired,  which  rose  alone 
in  the  middle  of  the  garden. 

"  Then  the  next  day  the  good  man  dug  away  the  rubbish  by 
the  cross,  and  when  this  was  removed,  they  found  a  mass  of 
charcoal,  and  under  this  the  treasure. 

"  Then  the  Signore,  grown  rich,  had,  to  commemorate  this, 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  CROCE  AL  TREE  BIO       35 

a  beautiful  column  built,  on  which  he  placed  the  cross,  and 
this  is  known  to  this  day  as  the  Croce  al  Trebbio,  or  the 
Crucifix  of  the  Cross-roads." 

If  the  Croce  al  Trebbio  really  commemorates  one  of  the 
most  iniquitous  massacres  which  ever  disgraced  even  the 
Church,  then  to  find  this  tender  and  graceful  little  tale 
springing  up  from  it,  reminds  me  of  what  I  once  heard 
of  a  violet  which  was  found  growing  in  the  Far  West, 
and  blooming  in  an  Indian's  skull.  The  conception  of 
the  children  playing  at  worshipping,  and  yet  half-wor- 
shipping, is  very  Italian.  I  have  seen  little  boys  and 
girls  thus  rig  up  a  small  chapel  in  the  streets  of  Rome, 
and  go  through  the  mass  and  other  ceremonies  with  in- 
tense interest. 

It  may  also  be  observed  that  in  this,  as  in  many  other 
legends,  charcoal  is  found  over  a  hidden  treasure.  The 
folk-lore  of  coal  in  connection  with  money  is  so  extensive 
and  varied,  that  one  could  write  on  it  a  small  book.  I 
believe  that  the  two  are  synonyms  in  all  canting  jargons 
or  "slanguages." 

"Hence  probably  came,"  remarks  Flaxius,  "the  saying, 
'To  haul  one  over  the  coals,'  meaning  to  go  over  money- 
accounts  with  any  one  who  has  cause  to  dread  the  ordeal. 
Truly  'tis  but  a  conjecture,  yet  I  remember  that  in  my  youth 
it  was  generally  applied  to  such  investigations. 

"  *  And  so  'twas  held  in  early  Christian  time 
That  glowing  coals  were  a  sure  test  of  truth 
And  holy  innocence,  as  was  full  proved 
By  Santa  Agnatesis  of  the  Franks, 
And  fair  Lupita  of  the  Irish  isle.' " 

Since  writing  the  foregoing  I  have  found  the  whole  ol 
the  ancient  inscription  of  the  cross,  as  it  was  preserved 
by  two  chroniclers.  This  will  be  found  in  another 
chapter. 


THE   TWO  FAIRIES  OF  THE   WELL 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  VIA  CALZAIOLI 

"  When  looking  down  into  a  well, 
You'll  see  a  fairy,  so  they  tell, 
Although  she  constantly  appears 
With  your  own  face  instead  of  hers  ; 
And  if  you  cry  aloud,  you'll  hear 
Her  voice  in  the  ringing  echo  clear ; 
Thus  every  one  unto  himself 
May  be  a  fairy,  or  an  elf." 

"  And  truly  those  nymphs  and  fairies  who  inhabit  wells,  or  are  found  in 
springs  and  fountains,  can  predict  or  know  what  is  to  take  place,  as  may 
be  read  in  Pausanias,  and  this  power  they  derive  from  their  habitat, 
or,  as  Creuzer  declares  (Symbolik,  part  iv.  72),  they  are  called  Muses,  in- 
asmuch as  they  dwell  in  Hippocrene  and  Aganippe,  the  inspiring  springs 
of  the  Muses." — On  the  Mysteries  of  Water.  FRIEDRICH  (Symbolik}. 

LONG  after  Christianity  had  come  in,  there  were  many 
places  in  the  vast  edifice  of  society  whence  the  old  heathen 
deities  refused  to  go  out,  and  there  are  even  yet  nooks 
and  corners  in  the  mountains  where  they  receive  a  kind 
of  sorcerer's  worship  zsfolletti.  A  trace  of  this  lingering 
in  a  faith  outworn,  in  nymphs,  dryads,  and  fata,  is  found 
in  the  following  story  : 

LE  DUE  NINFE  DEL  Pozzo. 

"  There  once  lived  in  Florence  a  young  nobleman,  who  had 
grown  up  putting  great  faith  in  fate,  ninfe,  and  similar  spirits, 
believing  that  they  were  friendly,  and  brought  good  fortune 
to  those  who  showed  them  respect.  Now  there  was  in  his 
palazzo  in  the  Via  Calzaioli,  at  the  corner  of  the  Condotta,  a 
very  old  well  or  fountain,  on  which  were  ancient  and  worn 
images,  and  in  which  there  was  a  marvellous  echo,  and  it  was 

said  that  two  nymphs  had  their  home  in  it.     And  the  Signore, 

36 


THE  TWO  FAIRIES  OF  THE  WELL  37 

believing  in  them,  often  cast  into  the  spring  wine  or  flowers, 
uttering  a  prayer  to  them,  and  at  table  he  would  always  cast 
a  little  wine  into  water,  or  sprinkle  water  on  the  ground  to  do 
them  honour. 

"One  day  he  had  with  him  at  table  two  friends,  who 
ridiculed  him  when  he  did  this,  and  still  more  when  he  sang 
a  song  praising  nymphs  and  fairies,  in  answer  to  their  remarks. 
Whereupon  one  said  to  him  : 

"  '  Truly,  I  would  like  to  see 
An  example,  if  't  may  be, 
How  a  fairy  in  a  fountain, 
Or  a  goblin  of  the  mountain, 
Or  a  nymph  of  stream  or  wood, 
Ever  did  one  any  good  ; 
For  such  fays  of  air  or  river, 
One  might  wait,  I  ween,  for  ever, 
And  if  even  such  things  be, 
They  are  devils  all  to  me.' 

"  Then  the  young  Signore,  being  somewhat  angered,  replied : 

'"In  the  wood  and  by  the  stream, 
Not  in  reverie  or  dream, 
Where  the  ancient  oak-trees  blow, 
And  the  murmuring  torrents  flow, 
Men  whose  wisdom  none  condemn 
Oft  have  met  and  talked  with  them. 
Demons  for  you  they  may  be, 
But  are  angels  unto  me.' 

"  To  which  his  friend  sang  in  reply,  laughing  : 

"  '  Only  prove  that  they  exist, 
And  we  will  no  more  resist ; 
Let  them  come  before  we  go, 
With  ha  I  ha !  ha !  and  ho!  ho !  ho  ! ' 

"  And  as  they  sang  this,  they  heard  a  peal  of  silvery  laughter 
without,  or,  as  it  seemed,  actually  singing  in  the  hall  and 
making  a  chorus  with  their  voices.  And  at  the  instant  a 
servant  came  and  said  that  two  very  beautiful  ladies  were 
without,  who  begged  the  young  Signore  to  come  to  them 
immediately,  and  that  it  was  on  a  matter  of  life  and  death. 

"  So  he  rose  and  stepped  outside,  but  he  had  hardly  crossed 
the  threshold  before  the  stone  ceiling  of  the  hall  fell  in  with  a 
tremendous  crash,  and  just  where  the  young  Signore  had  sat 
was  a  great  stone  weighing  many  guintale  or  hundredweights, 
so  that  it  was  plain  that  if  he  had  not  been  called  away,  in 


38  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

an  instant  more  he  would  have  been  crushed  like  a  fly  under  a 
hammer.  As  for  his  two  friends,  they  had  broken  arms  and 
cut  faces,  bearing  marks  in  memory  of  the  day  to  the  end  of 
their  lives. 

"  When  the  young  Signore  was  without  the  door  and  looked 
for  the  ladies,  they  were  gone,  and  a  little  boy,  who  was  the 
only  person  present,  declared  that  he  had  seen  them,  that 
they  were  wonderfully  beautiful,  and  that,  merrily  laughing, 
they  had  jumped  or  gone  down  into  the  well. 

"  Therefore  it  was  generally  believed  by  all  who  heard  the 
tale  that  it  was  the  Fairies  of  the  Well,  or  Fonte^  who  thus 
saved  the  life  of  the  young  Signore,  who  from  that  day 
honoured  them  more  devoutly  than  ever ;  nor  did  his  friends 
any  longer  doubt  that  there  are  spirits  of  air  or  earth,  who, 
when  treated  with  pious  reverence,  can  confer  benefits  on 
their  worshippers. 

"  *  For  there  are  fairies  all  around 
Everywhere,  and  elves  abound 
Even  in  our  homes  unseen  : 
They  go  wherever  we  have  been, 
And  often  by  the  fireside  sit, 
A-laughing  gaily  at  our  wit ; 
And  when  the  ringing  echo  falls 
Back  from  the  ceiling  or  the  walls, 
'Tis  not  our  voices  to  us  thrown 
In  a  reflection,  but  their  own  ; 
For  they  are  near  at  every  turn, 
As  he  who  watches  soon  may  learn.' 

"And  the  young  Signore,  to  do  honour  to  the  fairies, 
because  they  had  saved  his  life,  put  them  one  on  either  side 
of  his  coat-of-arms,  as  you  may  see  by  the  shield  which  is 
on  the  house  at  the  corner  of  the  Via  Calzaioli." 

The  authenticity  of  this  legend,  is  more  than  doubtful, 
because  it  exists  elsewhere,  as  I  have  read  it,  being 
unable  to  give  my  authority;  but  unless  my  memory 
deceives  me,  it  goes  back  to  classic  times,  and  may  be 
found  in  some  such  work  as  that  of  Philostratus  de  Vita 
Apollonii  or  Grosius.  Neither  am  I  well  assured,  to 
judge  from  the  source  whence  I  had  it,  that  it  is  current 
among  the  people,  though  no  great  measure  of  credulity 
is  here  required,  since  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  rule,  with 


THE  TWO  FAIRIES  OF  THE  WELL  39 

rarest  exception,  that  there  is  no  old  Roman  tale  of  the 
kind  which  may  not  be  unearthed  with  pains  and  patience 
among  old  Tuscan  peasant  women.  However,  the  shield 
is  still  on  the  corner  of  the  Via  Calzaioli,  albeit  one  of 
the  nymphs  on  it  has  been  knocked  or  worn  away.  Thus 
even  fates  must  yield  in  time  to  fate. 

I  have  in  a  note  to  another  legend  spoken  of  the  instinct 
which  seems  to  lead  children  or  grown  people  to  asso- 
ciate wells  with  indwelling  fairies,  to  hear  a  voice  in  the 
echo,  and  see  a  face  in  the  reflection  in  the  still  water. 
Keats  has  beautifully  expressed  it  in  "  Endymion  "  : 

"  Some  mouldered  steps  lead  into  this  cool  cell 
Far  as  the  slabbed  margin  of  a  well, 
Whose  patient  level  peeps  its  crystal  eye 
Right  upward  through  the  bushes  to  the  sky.   .  .  . 
Upon  a  day  when  thus  I  watched  .  .  .  behold  ! 
A  wonder  fair  as  any  I  have  told — 
The  same  bright  face  I  lasted  in  my  sleep 
Smiling  in  the  clear  well.     My  heart  did  leap 
Through  the  cool  depth.  .  .  . 
Or  'tis  the  cell  of  Echo,  where  she  sits 
And  babbles  thorough  silence  till  her  wits 
Are  gone  in  tender  madness,  and  anon 
Faints  into  sleep,  with  many  a  dying  tone." 

"  In  which  tale,"  writes  the  immortal  Flaxius,  "  there  is  a 
pretty  allegory.  Few  there  are  who  know  why  truth  is  said  to 
be  at  the  bottom  of  a  well ;  but  this  I  can  indeed  declare  to 
you.  For  as  a  mirror  was  above  all  things  an  emblem  of 
truth,  because  it  shows  all  things  exactly  as  they  are,  so  the 
water  in  a  well  was,  as  many  traditions  prove,  considered  as  a 
mirror,  because  looking  into  it  we  see  our  face,  which  we  of 
course  most  commonly  see  in  a  glass,  and  this  disk  of  shining 
water  resembles  in  every  way  a  hand-mirror.  And  for  this 
reason  a  mirror  was  also  regarded  as  expressing  life  itself, 
for  which  reason  people  so  greatly  fear  to  break  them.  So  in 
the  Latin,  Velut  in  speculo,  and  in  the  Italian,  Vero  come  un 
specchio — 'True  as  a  mirror,'  we  have  the  same  idea.  And  a 
poet  has  written,  '  Mirrored  as  in  a  well,'  and  many  have  re- 
echoed the  same  pretty  fancy. 

"  Which  reminds  me  that  in  the  Oberpfalz  or  Upper  Pala- 
tinate maidens  were  wont  to  go  to  a  well  by  moonlight,  and  if 
on  looking  therein  they  saw  their  own  faces,  they  believed 


40  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

that  they  would  soon  be  happily  married.  But  if  a  cloud 
darkened  the  moon  and  they  saw  nothing,  then  they  would 
die  old  maids.  But  luckiest  of  all  was  it  if  they  fancied  they 
saw  a  man's  face,  for  this  would  be  the  future  husband 
himself. 

"  Now  it  befell  that  a  certain  youth  near  Heidelberg  fell 
into  a  well,  or  put  himself  there,  when  a  certain  maid  whom 
he  loved,  came  and  looked  in,  and  believing  that  she  saw  the 
face  of  her  destined  spouse,  went  away  in  full  faith  that  the 
fairy  of  the  well  had  taken  his  form,  and  so  she  married  him. 
Which,  if  it  be  not  true,  is  ben  trovato. 

"  Truth  is  always  represented,  be  it  remembered,  as  holding 
a  mirror. 

"And  note  also  that  the  hand-mirror  and  the  well  were 
strangely  connected  in  ancient  times,  as  appears  by  Pausanias, 
who  states  that  before  a  certain  temple  of  Ceres  hung  a 
speculum,  which,  after  it  had  been  immersed  in  a  neighbouring 
well  or  spring,  showed  invalids  by  reflection  whether  they 
would  live  or  die.  And  with  all  this,  the  holding  a  mirror  to 
the  mouth  of  an  insensible  person  to  tell  whether  the  breath 
was  still  in  the  body,  seemed  also  to  make  it  an  indicator 
of  life." 


"  Thus  in  life  all  things  do  pass, 
As  it  were,  in  magic  glass." 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  VIA  DELLB  SERVE 
SMARRITE 

"  We  all  do  know  the  usual  way 
In  which  our  handmaids  go  astray, 
But  in  this  tale  the  situation 
Has  a  peculiar  variation  ; 
How  an  old  wizard — strange  occurrence  ! 
Deluded  all  the  girls  in  Florence, 
(It  needs  no  magic  now  to  do  it), 
And  how  the  maidens  made  him  rue  it, 
For  having  seized  on  him  and  stripped  him. 
They  tied  him  up  and  soundly  whipped  him." 

THE  author  of  "The  Cities  of  Central  Italy/'  speaking  of 
Siena,  says  that  "  In  its  heart,  where  its  different  hill- 
promontories  unite,  is  the  Piazza  del  Campo,  lately — 
with  the  time-serving  which  disgraces  every  town  in 
Italy — called  Vittorio  Emanuele."  And  with  the  stupidity 
and  bad  taste  which  seems  to  characterise  all  municipal 
governments  in  this  respect  all  the  world  over,  that  of 
Florence  has  changed  most  of  the  old  names  of  this  kind, 
and  in  order  to  render  the  confusion  more  complete,  has 
put  the  new  names  just  over  the  old  ones,  with  the  simple 
addition  of  the  word  Gia  or  "formerly."  Whence  came 
the  legend  current  in  the  Anglo-American  colony,  that  a 
newly  arrived  young  lady,  not  as  yet  beyond  the  second 
lesson  in  Ollendorff,  being  asked  where  she  lived,  an- 
swered in  Gia  Street.  She  forgot  the  rest  of  the  name. 

One  of  these  gaping  gias  is  the  Via  del  Parlascio  gia 
Via  delle  Serve  Smarrite,  or  the  street  of  the  maid- 
servants strayed  away  or  gone  astray.  Now  Florence  is 
famous  for  its  pretty  servant-girls,  and  if  I  may  believe 

a  halfpenny  work,  entitled  "  Seven  Charming  Florentine 

41 


42  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Domestics,"  now  before  me,  which  is  racy  of  the  soil — or 
dirt — and  appears  to  be  written  from  life  [as  accurate 
portraits  of  all  the  fascinating  seven  are  given],  I  opine 
that  the  damsel  of  this  class  who  had  never  been,  I 
do  not  say  a  wife,  but  a  waif  and  a  stray,  must  be  a 
phenomenal  rarity.  Therefore  it  was  suggested  to  me 
that  it  was  formerly  in  very  ancient  times  the  custom  to 
send  all  such  stray  cattle  to  the  pound,  that  is,  to  dwell  in 
this  street  as  a  kind  of  Ghetto.  But  the  folly  of  this 
measure  soon  became  apparent  when  it  was  found  that 
one  might  as  well  try  to  get  all  the  cats  in  Tuscany 
into  a  hand-basket,  or  all  its  flies — or  fleas — under  one 
tumbler,  as  try  to  make  a  comprehensive  menagerie  of 
these  valuable  animals,  who  were,  however,  by  no  means 
curiosities.  So  the  attempt  was  abandoned,  and  thence- 
forth the  maidens  were  allowed  to  stray  wherever  they 
pleased,  but  under  some  slight  supervision ;  whence  it  was 
said  of  them  that  they  were  le  lucertole  chi  cominciano  a 
sentir  il  sole — "  fireflies  which  begin  to  see  the  sun  " — 
a  proverb  which  the  learned  and  genial  Orlando  Peschetti 
(1618)  explains  as  being  applicable  to  those  who,  having 
been  in  prison  and  then  set  free,  are  still  watched,  but 
which  appears  to  me  rather  to  refer  to  the  suspected  who 
are  "  shadowed  "  before  they  are  arrested. 

But  in  due  time  I  received  from  good  authority  an 
ancient  legend  of  the  Via  delle  Serve  Smarrite,  in  which 
the  origin  of  the  name  is  explained  as  follows : 

VIA  DELLE  SERVE  SMARRITE. 

"  There  was  long  ago,  in  what  was  afterwards  called  the  Via 
delle  Serve  Smarrite,  or  Stray  Maid-Servants'  Street,  a  very 
ancient  and  immensely  large  house,  which  was  generally  sup- 
posed to  be  vacant,  and  in  which  no  one  cared  to  dwell,  or 
even  approach,  since  there  were  dreadful  tales  of  evil  deeds 
done  in  it,  and  reports  that  it  was  a  gathering-place  for  witches, 
goblins,  and  diavoli.  The  clanking  of  chains  and  peals  of 
horrid  laughter  rung  from  its  chambers  at  midnight,  blue  and 


THE  VIA  DELLE  SERVE  SMARRITE  43 

green  fires  gleamed  from  its  windows,  and  everybody  all 
around  had  heard  from  somebody  else  that  the  nightmares 
had  there  their  special  nest,  from  which  they  sailed  forth  to 
afflict  all  Florence. 

"  Yet  all  this  was  a  trick  which  was  often  played  in  those 
days,  when  gente  non  dabbene  or  evil  folk  and  outlaws  wanted 
to  keep  a  house  to  themselves,  and  there  were  no  newspapers 
to  publish  every  mystery.  For  there  were  a  great  many  who 
went  in  there,  but  few  who  ever  came  out,  and  these  were  all 
young  and  pretty  servant-maids.  And  the  way  it  was  managed 
was  this.  When  such  girls  were  sent  to  the  market  to  buy 
provisions,  they  always  met  there  or  elsewhere  an  old  woman 
who  pretended  to  be  extremely  pious,1  who,  by  using  many 
arts  and  making  small  gifts,  and  above  all  by  subtle  flatteries, 
persuaded  them  that  service  was  only  fit  for  gentacda  or  the 
dregs  of  the  people,  and  that,  beautiful  and  graceful  as  they 
were,  they  needed  only  live  like  ladies  for  a  little  time  at  ease, 
and  they  would  soon  be  fit  to  marry  some  Signore,  and  that 
she  herself  would  thus  maintain  them,  hoping  they  would 
pay  her  well  for  it  all  when  once  married.  And  I  need  not 
say  that  the  trick  generally  succeeded. 

"  The  house  to  which  they  were  led  was  ugly  and  repulsive 
outside,  but  within  there  were  beautiful  rooms  of  all  kinds, 
magnificently  furnished,  and  the  new-comers  were  promptly 
bathed,  elegantly  attired,  and  jewelled  from  head  to  foot,  and 
instead  of  serving,  had  maids  given  them  as  attendants,  and 
everything  conceivable  was  done  to  make  their  life  as  pleasant 
and  demoralising  among  themselves  as  possible.  But  in  due 
time  they  found  out  that  a  certain  Signore  was  lord  of  the 
house  and  of  themselves,  and  that  he  gradually  led  them  into 
the  strangest  and  most  terrible  orgies,  and  finally  into  witch- 
craft, after  which  one  disappeared  mysteriously  after  the  other, 
none  knew  whither,  but  as  there  were  always  fresh  arrivals  to 
take  their  places,  nobody  heeded  it. 

"  However,  this  mournful  disappearance  of  pretty  servant- 
maids  became  at  last  so  frequent  and  was  so  mysterious,  that 
it  began  to  be  much  talked  about.  Now  there  was  a  certain 
gentleman,  a  man  himself  of  great  authority  and  intelligence, 
who  had  heard  of  these  vanishments  and  hoped  to  find  out 
their  cause.  And  one  night  at  a  very  late  hour,  when  he  was 
passing  by  the  mysterious  house,  he  heard  from  it  now  and 

1  Una  vecchietta,  tutta  Gesu  e  Maria. 


44  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

then  sounds  like  groans  mingled  with  the  clanking  of  chains, 
and  saw  red  and  blue  and  green  lights  at  the  windows,  but 
by  keeping  still  he  also  distinguished  the  sound  of  music  and 
girls'  voices  laughing  and  singing;  and  stealing  near  in  the 
darkness,  and  fearing  no  devils,  he  contrived  to  climb  up  to  a 
window,  and  pulling  aside  a  curtain,  peeped  in,  when  he  beheld 
plainly  enough  a  great  many  beautiful  women  in  scant  array, 
or  a  real  dance  of  witches,  and  being  marvellously  attracted 
by  the  sight  of  so  many  charms  so  liberally  displayed,  he 
naturally  desired  to  enter  the  gay  party. 

"  And  here  chance  favoured  him  beyond  all  hope ;  for  on 
going  to  the  door,  he  found  an  old  woman  about  to  enter,  to 
whom  he  gave  a  gold  piece,  and  begged  her  to  tell  him  the 
true  story  of  the  house,  and  whether  he  could  enter  it.  But 
what  was  his  amazement  to  find  in  her  his  old  foster-mother  of 
the  country,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  many  years,  and  who 
loved  him  dearly. 

"  And  she,  being  pressed,  told  him  the  whole  story  of  the 
house,  wherein  she  was  a  servant,  but  that  she  had  grown 
deadly  tired  of  such  evil  ways,  and  seeing  such  sin  as  went  on 
there,  though  she  was  well  paid,  and  said  if  he  would  only  give 
her  a  home,  she  would  reveal  all  to  justice.  And  she  added 
that  for  the  present  he  could  freely  join  the  girls  who  were 
dancing,  as  the  wizard,  their  master,  was  away  that  night 

"  But  when  he  entered,  he  was  amazed  at  the  splendour  of 
the  rooms  and  the  beauty  of  the  women.  Now  among  these 
he  found  one  who  truly  enchanted  him,  and  entering  into  con- 
versation with  her,  found  that  she  would  gladly  escape  with 
him,  and  that  many  others  were  inclined  to  leave,  but  dare  not 
show  it  for  fear  of  the  master. 

"Then  the  Signore,  addressing  all  the  girls,  told  them  that  in 
a  few  hours  the  guards  or  police  would,  by  his  orders,  be  in  the 
house,  and  advised  them  to  at  once  seize  on  all  the  valuables 
on  which  they  could  lay  their  hands,  and  pack  up  their  bundles 
and  depart,  and  that  he  himself  would  write  for  every  one  a 
free  pass  to  let  her  go  with  the  property.  And  truly  he  had 
hardly  spoken  ere  there  began  such  a  plundering  and  pillaging, 
sacking  and  spoliation,  as  it  would  have  done  your  heart  good 
to  see,  and  which  was  like  the  taking  of  a  rich  town,  only  that 
the  marauders  were  all  maidens.  Here  was  one  rolling  up 
silver  spoons,  cups,  anything  she  could  get,  in  a  shawl ;  there 
another  filling  a  bag  with  jewellery,  and  a  silver  ladle  sticking 
out  of  her  bosom  or  back ;  anon  a  couple  of  Venuses  fighting 


THE  VIA  DELLE  SERVE  SMARRITE  45 

for  a  splendid  garment,  while  a  superb  Hebe  ravished  a  golden 
goblet,  and  an  enchanting  Vesta,  if  not  a  vestal,  appropriated 
most  appropriately  a  silver  lamp.  Some  pulled  down  the 
curtains,  others  rolled  up  the  costly  Venetian  rugs ;  they  drank 
wine  when  they  were  thirsty,  and  quarrelled  and  laughed  and 
shrieked,  as  a  parcel  of  wild  servant-girls  in  a  mad  frolic  might 
be  expected  to  do.  It  was  a  fine  sight — '  one  worthy  of  a  great 
artist  or  De  Goncourt,'  notes  Flaxius. 

"  When  lo  !  all  at  once  there  was  an  awful  and  simultaneous 
shriek  as  the  door  opened,  and  the  Domine — I  mean  the  head- 
master, wizard,  or  sultan — entered,  gazing  like  an  astonished 
demon  on  the  scene  before  his  eyes.  In  a  voice  of  thunder 
he  asked  the  meaning  of  the  scene,  when  he  found  himself 
confronted  by  the  intruding  Signore,  before  whom  his  heart 
run  away  like  water  when  he  recognised  in  him  a  man  having 
very  great  authority,  with  the  police  at  his  back. 

"Now,  servant-maids,  however  pretty  they  may  be,  are 
mostly  contadim  with  powerful  muscles  and  mighty  arms,  and 
with  one  accord  they  rushed  on  their  late  master,  and  soon 
overpowered  him.  Then  he  was  securely  bound  with  silken 
curtain  ropes,  and  the  new  Signore,  taking  his  place  at  a  great 
table,  bade  all  the  damsels  range  themselves  at  the  sides  in 
solemn  council,  for  the  offender  was  now  to  be  tried,  con- 
demned, and  punished  too,  should  he  be  found  guilty. 

"The  trial  was  indeed  one  of  peculiar  interest,  and  the 
testimony  adduced  would  have  made  the  fortune  of  a  French 
novelist,  but  space  (if  nothing  else)  prohibits  my  giving  it. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  wizard  was  found  guilty  of  taking  unto 
himself  an  undue  share  of  pretty  hand-maidens,  a  great  sin 
considering  the  number  of  gallant  soldiers  and  other  bachelors 
who  were  thereby  defrauded  of  their  dues.  But  as  he  had 
neither  murdered  nor  stolen,  it  was  decided  to  let  him  go  and 
carry  on  his  games  in  some  less  Christian  town,  on  condition 
that  he  would  divide  what  money  he  had  in  the  house  among 
the  poor  girls  whom  he  had  so  cruelly  cajoled. 

"And  as  this  last  sentence  was  plaintively  pronounced,  there 
was  a  deep  and  beautiful  sigh  uttered  by  all  the  victims,  fol- 
lowed by  three  cheers.  The  master's  strong-box  was  at  once 
hunted  up,  and  its  contents  shared,  and  indeed  they  were  so 
considerable  that  the  maidens  one  and  all  soon  married  nobly 
and  lived  happily." 

The  written  story,  with  a  pleasing  instinct  of  Italian 


46  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

thrift,  adds  that  the  conquering  Signore  purchased  the 
property,  in  fact,  the  whole  street,  at  a  very  low  figure, 
before  the  facts  became  known,  and  gave  the  place  the 
name  of  the  Via  delle  Serve  Smarrite,  as  it  is  still  called 
by  the  people,  despite  its  new  official  christening. 

"  Ye  may  break,  ye  may  ruin  the  flask  if  ye  will, 
But  the  scent  of  the  brandy  will  hang  round  it  still." 


THE  BRONZE  BOAR  OF  THE  ME  RCA  TO 
NUOVO 

"Now  among  the  Greeks,  as  with  the  Northern  races,  the  boar  was  the 
special  type  of  male  generation,  even  as  the  frog  expressed  that  of  the 
female  sex.  And  therefore  images  of  the  boar  were  set  in  public  places 
that  fertility  might  be  developed  among  women,  for  which  reason  they  also 
wear,  as  among  the  Arabs,  necklaces  of  silver  frogs." — Notes  on  Symbolism. 

IN  front  of  the  Mercato  Nuovo,  built  by  Cosimo  I.,  stands 
a  bronze  copy  of  an  ancient  boar,  now  in  the  Uffizzi 
Gallery.  It  was  cast  by  Pietro  Tacca,  and  is  now  a 
fountain.  The  popular  legend  in  relation  to  it  is  as 
follows : 

"  In  the  market-place  of  Florence,  which  is  called  //  Por- 
cellino,  because  there  is  in  it  a  fountain  with  a  swine,  there 
was  anciently  only  a  spring  of  water  and  a  pool,  in  which  were 
many  frogs,  water-lizards,  shell-snails,  and  slugs.  These  were 
round  about,  but  in  the  spring  itself  was  a  frog  who  was  con- 
fined there  because  she  had  revealed  that  her  lover  was  a 
boar. 

"  This  boar  was  the  son  of  a  rich  lord,  who,  being  married 
for  a  very  long  time,  had  no  children,  and  for  this  reason  made 
his  wife  very  unhappy,  saying  that  she  was  a  useless  creature, 
and  that  if  she  could  not  bear  a  son  she  had  better  pack  up 
and  be  off  with  herself,  which  she  endured  despairingly  and 
weeping  continually,  praying  to  the  saints  and  giving  alms 
withal,  all  to  bring  forth  an  heir,  and  all  in  vain. 

"  One  day  she  saw  a  drove  of  pigs  go  by  her  palace,  and 
among  them  were  many  sows  and  many  more  very  little  pigs. 
Now  among  these,  or  at  hand,  was  a.  fata  or  witch-spirit.1  And 
the  lady  seeing  this  said  in  the  bitterness  of  her  heart,  'So 
the  very  pigs  have  offspring  and  I  none.  I  would  I  were  as 

1  I  have  elsewhere  explained  that  the  fata  in  these  traditions  is  a  witch 
or  sorcerer  become  a  spirit. 

47 


48  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

they  are,  and  could  do  as  they  do,  and  bring  forth  as  they 
bring  forth,  and  so  escape  all  this  suffering  ! ' 

"  And  the  fairy  heard  this,  and  took  her  at  her  word  ;  and, 
as  you  will  see,  she  cut  her  cloth  without  measuring  it  first, 
from  which  came  a  sad  misfit.  And  soon  after  she  was  ill, 
and  this  being  told  to  her  husband,  he  replied,  'Good  news, 
and  may  she  soon  be  gone ! '  but  he  changed  his  tone  when  he 
heard  that  he  was  to  have  an  heir.  Then  he  flew  to  her  and 
begged  her  pardon,  and  made  great  rejoicings. 

"  Truly  there  was  horror  and  sorrow  when  in  due  time  the 
lady,  instead  of  a  human  child,  brought  forth  a  boar-pig.  Yet 
the  parents  were  so  possessed  with  the  joy  of  having  any  kind 
of  offspring  that  they  ended  by  making  a  great  pet  of  the  crea- 
ture, who  was,  however,  human  in  his  ways,  and  could  in  time 
talk  with  grace  and  ease.1  And  when  he  grew  older  he  began 
to  run  after  the  girls,  and  they  to  run  away  from  him,  screaming 
as  if  the  devil  had  sent  him  for  them. 

"  There  lived  near  the  palace  a  beautiful  but  very  poor  girl, 
and  with  her  the  young  Boar  fell  desperately  in  love.  So  he 
asked  her  parents  for  her  hand ;  but  they,  poor  as  they  were, 
laughed  at  him,  saying  that  their  daughter  should  never  marry 
a  swine.  But  the  young  lady  had  well  perceived  that  this  was 
no  common  or  lazy  pig,  such  as  never  gets  a  ripe  pear— -porco 
pigro  non  mangia  pere  mature — as  he  had  shown  by  wooing 
her ;  and,  secondly,  because  she  was  poor  and  ambitious,  and 
daring  enough  to  do  anything  to  become  rich  and  great.2 

"  Now  she  surmised  that  there  were  eggs  under  the  chopped 
straw  in  this  basket,  or  more  in  the  youth  than  people  sup- 
posed ;  and  she  was  quite  right,  for  on  the  bridal  night  he  not 
only  unclothed  himself  of  silk  and  purple  and  fine  linen,  but 
also  doffed  his  very  skin  or  boar's  hide,  and  appeared  as  beau- 
tiful as  a  Saint  Sebastian  freshly  painted. 

"  Then  he  said  to  her,  '  Be  not  astonished  to  find  me  good- 
looking  at  the  rate  of  thirty  sous  to  a  franc,  nor  deem  thyself 
over-paid,  for  if  we  had  not  wedded,  truly  I  should  have  gone 
on  pigging  it  to  the  end  of  my  days,  having  been  doomed — 
like  many  men — to  be  a  beast  so  long  as  I  was  a  bachelor,  or 

1  It  may  be  conjectured  from  this  context  that  the  child  was  partly 
human  in  form,  perhaps  like  the  Pig-faced  Lady,  or  not  more  swinish  than 
William  of  Ardennes  in  face. 

2  Truly  she  was,  to  use  a  really  ancient  phrase,  "  ready  to  go  the  whole 
hog."     It  is  said  that  Mahomet  told  his  disciples  that  there  was  one  part 
of  a  pig  which  they  must  not  touch  ;  but  as  he  did  not  specify  what  it  was, 
they  among  them  devoured  the  entire  animal. 


THE  BRONZE  BOAR  OP  THE  MERCATO  NUOVO    49 

till  a  beautiful  maid  would  marry  me.  Yet  there  is  a  con- 
dition attached  to  this,  which  is,  that  I  can  only  be  a  man  as 
thou  seest  me  by  night,  for  I  must  be  a  boar  by  day.  And 
shouldst  thou  ever  betray  this  secret  to  any  one,  or  if  it  be 
found  out,  then  I  shall  again  be  a  boar  all  the  time  for  life, 
and  thou  turn  into  a  frog  because  of  too  much  talking. 

"  Now  as  surely  as  that  time  and  straw  ripen  medlars,  as 
the  saying  is,  just  so  surely  will  it  come  to  pass  that  a 
woman  will  tell  a  secret,  even  to  her  own  shame.  And  so  it 
befell  this  lady,  who  told  it  as  a  great  mystery  to  her  mother, 
who  at  once  imparted  it  under  oath  to  all  her  dear  friends, 
who  swore  all  their  friends  on  all  their  salvations  not  to  breathe 
a  word  of  it  to  anybody,  who  all  confessed  it  to  the  priests. 
How  much  farther  it  went  God  knows,  but  by  the  time  the 
whole  town  knew  it,  which  was  in  one  day  of  twenty-four 
hours,  or  ere  the  next  morning,  the  bride  had  become  a  frog 
who  lived  in  the  spring,  and  the  bridegroom  a  boar  who 
every  day  went  to  drink  at  the  water,  and  when  there  said : 

" '  Lady  Frog  !  lo,  I  am  here  ! 

He  to  whom  thou  once  wert  dear. 

We  are  in  this  sad  condition, 

Not  by  avarice  or  ambition, 

Nor  by  evil  or  by  wrong, 

But  'cause  thou  could 'st  not  hold  thy  tongue ; 

For  be  she  shallow,  be  she  deep, 

No  woman  can  a  secret  keep  ; 

Which  all  should  think  upon  who  see 

The  monument  which  here  will  be.' 

"  So  it  came  to  pass  either  that  the  boar  turned  into  the 
great  bronze  maiale  which  now  stands  in  the  market-place,  or 
else  the  people  raised  it  in  remembrance  of  the  story — chi  sa — 
but  there  it  is  to  this  day. 

"  As  for  the  Signora  Frog,  she  comforted  herself  by  making  a 
great  noise  and  telling  the  tale  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  having 
her  brains  in  her  tongue — il  cervello  nella  lingua,  as  they  say 
of  those  who  talk  well  yet  have  but  small  sense.  And  that 
which  you  hear  frogs  croaking  all  night  long  is  nothing  but 
this  story  which  I  have  told  you  of  their  ancestress  and  the 
bronze  boar." 

This  is,  in  one  form  or  the  other,  a  widely  spread  tale. 
As  the  voice  of  the  frog  has  a  strange  resemblance  to 
that  of  man,  there  being  legends  referring  to  it  in  every 


50  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

language,  and  as  there  is  a  bold  and  forward  expression 
in  its  eyes,1  it  was  anciently  regarded  as  a  human  being 
who  was  metamorphosed  for  being  too  impudent  and 
loquacious,  as  appears  by  the  legend  of  "  Latona  and  the 
Lycian  Boors  "  (Ovid,  Metamorph.,  vi.  340).  The  general 
resemblance  of  the  form  of  a  frog  to  that  of  man  greatly 
contributed  to  create  such  fables. 

The  classic  ancient  original  of  this  boar  may  be  seen 
in  the  Uffizzi  Gallery.  As  the  small  image  of  a  pig  carried 
by  ladies  ensures  that  they  will  soon  be,  as  the  Germans 
say,  "in  blessed  circumstances/*  or  enceinte  (which  was 
all  one  with  luck  in  old  times),  so  the  image  of  the  boar 
is  supposed  to  be  favourable  to  those  ladies  who  desire 
olive  branches.  From  all  which  it  appears  that  in  ancient 
times  swine  were  more  highly  honoured  than  at  present, 
or,  as  Shelley  sings  : 

"We  pigs 

Were  blest  as  nightingales  on  myrtle  sprigs, 
Or  grasshoppers  that  live  on  noon-day  dew." 


i  « 


'Symbola  Heroics,"  Antwerp,  1583. 


THE  FAIRY  OF  THE  CAMPANILE,  OR  THE 
TOWER  OF  GIOTTO 

"  Bella  di  fronte  e  infino  alle  Calcagna, 
Con  un  corredo  nobile  e  civile, 
In  te  risiede  una  cupola  magna 
E  superbo  di  Giotto  il  Campanile." — Giuseppe  Moroni. 

"  Round  as  the  O  of  Giotto,  d'ye  see? 

Which  means  as  well  done  as  a  thing  can  be." — Proverb. 

MANY  have  wondered  how  it  came  to  pass  that  Virgil 
lived  in  tradition  not  as  a  poet  but  as  sorcerer.  But  the 
reason  for  it  is  clear  when  we  find  that  in  Florence  every 
man  who  ever  had  a  genius  for  anything  owed  it  to 
magic,  or  specially  to  the  favour  of  some  protecting  fairy 
GtfolUtto)  spirit  or  god.  Is  a  girl  musical  ?  Giacinto  or 
Hyacinth,  the  favourite  of  Apollo,  has  given  her  music 
lessons  in  her  dreams.  For  the  orthodox  there  are 
Catholic  saints  with  a  specialty,  from  venerable  Simeon, 
who  looks  after  luck  in  lotteries,  to  the  ever-blessed 
Antony,  who  attends  to  everything,  and  Saint  Anna,  n<?e 
Lucina,  who  inspires  nurses.  And  where  the  saints  fail, 
the  folletti,  according  to  the  witches,  take  their  place  and 
do  the  work  far  better.  Therefore,  as  I  shall  in  another 
place  set  forth,  Dante  and  Michel  Angelo  have  passed 
into  the  marvellous  mythology  of  goblins.  With  them  is 
included  Giotto,  as  appears  by  the  following  legend  of 
"  The  Goblin  of  the  Bell-Tower  of  Giotto." 

IL   FOLLETTO   DEL  CAMPANILE  DI   GlOTTO. 

"  Giotto  was  a  shepherd,  and  every  day  when  he  went  forth 
to  pasture  his  herd  there  was  one  little  lamb  who  always  kept 


52  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

near  him,  and  appeared  to  be  longing  to  talk  to  him  like  a 
Christian. 

"  Now  this  lamb  always  laid  down  on  a  certain  stone  which 
was  fast  in  the  ground  (masso) ;  and  Giotto,  who  loved  the 
lamb,  to  please  it,  lay  down  also  on  the  same  stone. 

"  After  a  short  time  the  lamb  died,  and  when  dying  said  : 

"  '  Giotto,  cosa  non  far  ti 
Se  mi  senti  parlarti, 
Ti  voglio  tanto  bene 
E  dove  andrai, 
lo  ti  seguiro  sempre 
In  forma  di  folletto, 
E  col  mio  volere 
Tu  verrai  un  bravo  scultore 
E  insegne  disegnatore.' 

11 '  Giotto,  be  not  astonished 
That  I  thus  speak  to  thee  ; 
I  have  such  love  for  thee, 
Wherever  thou  shall  go 
I  will  follow  thee  always 
In  the  form  of  a  fairy, 
And  through  my  favour 
Thou  shalt  become  a  great  sculptor 
And  artist.' 

"  And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Giotto  was  an  able  sculptor 
by  the  aid  of  the  lamb,  and  all  that  he  did  was  due  to  the 
lamb  which  helped  him. 

"  And  when  he  died,  the  spirit  of  the  lamb  remained  in  the 
form  of  a  folletto  or  fairy  in  the  campanile,  and  it  is  still  often 
seen  there,  always  with  the  spirit  of  Giotto.  Even  in  death 
their  souls  could  not  be  separate. 

"  When  any  one  desires  to  ascend  the  tower,  and  his  or  her 
heart  fails  in  mounting  the  steps  (e  che  ha  paura  di  salire\  the 
fairy  below  says : 

"'Vade,  vade,  Signora ! 
La  vade  su  salgha, 
Non  abbia  paura, 
Ci  sono  io  sotto.' 

"  *  Go  on,  go  on,  Signora, 
Go  up  the  stairs — oh  go  1 
Be  not  afraid,  my  lady  ! 
For  I  am  here  below.' 

"Then  the  visitor  hearing  this  believes  it  is  one  of  the 
guides  employed  (inpiegati\  or  one  of  the  gentlemen  or  ladies 


THE  FAIRY  OF  THE  CAMPANILE  53 

who  are  ascending  after.  And  often  when  half-way  up  there 
comes  a  great  puff  of  wind  which  blows  up  their  skirts  (fa 
gonfiare  le  sottane)  which  causes  great  laughter,  and  they  think 
that  this  is  only  a  common  thing,  and  do  not  perceive  that  it 
does  not  happen  to  others. 

"And  it  is  said  that  this  fairy  appears  by  night  in  the  Piazza 
del  Duomo,  or  Cathedral  Square,  in  different  forms." 

The  reason  why  Giotto  is  so  popularly  known  as  having 
been  a  shepherd  is  that  on  the  central  tablet  of  the  tower 
or  campanile,  facing  the  street,  there  is  a  bas-relief  of  a 
man  seated  in  a  tent  with  sheep  before  him,  and  this  is 
naturally  supposed  to  represent  the  builder  or  Giotto  him- 
self, since  it  fills  the  most  prominent  place.  In  a  very 
popular  halfpenny  chapbook,  entitled  "The  Statues  under 
the  Uffizzi  in  Florence,  Octaves  improvised  by  Giuseppe 
Moroni,  called  //  Niccheri  or  the  Illiterate/'  I  find  the 
following : 

GIOTTO. 

"  Voi  di  Mugello,  nato  dell'  interne, 
Giotto  felice,  la  da'  Vespignano 
Prodigiose  pitture  in  ogni  esterno 
A  Brescia,  a  Roma,  Firenze  e  Milano, 
Nelle  pietre,  ne'  marmi  nel  quaderno, 
L'archittetura  al  popolo  italiano. 
Da  non  trovare  paragone  simile, 
Vi  basti,  per  esempio,  il  campanile." 

"  Thou  of  Mugello,  born  in  Italy, 
Happy  Giotto,  gav'st  to  Vespignan 
Great  pictures  which  on  every  front  we  see 
At  Brescia,  Rome,  in  Florence  and  Milan, 
In  stone,  in  marble,  and  in  poetry, 
And  architecture,  all  Italian. 
Nothing  surpassed  thy  wondrous  art  and  power, 
Take  for  example,  then,  our  great  bell-tower." 

The  fact  that  this  is  taken  from  a  very  popular  half- 
penny work  indicates  the  remarkable  familiarity  with 
such  a  name  as  that  of  Giotto  among  the  people. 


THE  GOBLIN  OF  THE  TOWER  DELL  A  TRINITA, 
OR  THE  PORTA  SAN  NICCOLO 

"They  do  not  speak  as  mortals  speak, 
Nor  sing  as  others  sing ; 
Their  words  are  gleams  of  starry  light, 
Their  songs  the  glow  of  sunset  light, 
Or  meteors  on  the  wing." 

I  ONCE  begun  a  book — the  ending  and  publishing  of  it 
are  in  the  dim  and  remote  future,  and  perhaps  in  the 
limbo  of  all  things  unfinished.  It  was  or  is  "  The  Ex- 
periences of  Flaxius  the  Immortal/'  a  sage  who  dwells 
for  ever  in  the  world,  chiefly  to  observe  the  evolution  of 
all  things  absurd,  grotesque,  quaint,  illogical — in  short,  of 
all  that  is  strictly  human.  And  on  him  I  bestowed  a 
Florentine  legend  which  is  perhaps  of  great  antiquity, 
since  there  is  a  hint  in  it  of  an  ancient  Hebrew  work  by 
Rabbi  ben  Mozeltoffor  the  learned  Gedauler  Chamar — I 
forget  which — besides  being  found  in  poetic  form  in  my 
own  great  work  on  Confucius. 

That  money  is  the  life  of  man,  and  that  treasure  buried 
in  the  earth  is  a  sin  to  its  possessor,  forms  the  subject  of 
one  of  Christ's  parables.  The  same  is  true  of  all  talent 
unemployed,  badly  directed,  or  not  developed  at  all. 
The  turning-point  of  evolution  and  of  progressive  civili- 
sation will  be  when  public  opinion  and  state  interests 
require  that  every  man  shall  employ  what  talent  he  has, 
and  every  mere  idler  be  treated  as  a  defaulter  or  criminal. 
From  this  truly  Christian  point  of  view  the  many  tales  of 
ghosts  who  walk  in  agony  because  of  buried  gold  are 
strangely  instructive. 

54 


THE  GOBLIN  OF  THE  TOWER  DELL  A  TRINITA     55 


FLAXIUS  AND  THE  ROSE. 

"  Midnight  was  ringing  from  the  cloister  of  San  Miniato  in 
Florence  on  the  hill  above,  and  Flaxius  sat  by  the  Arno  down 
below,  on  the  bank  by  the  square  grey  tower  of  other  days, 
known  as  the  Niccolo,  or  Torre  della  Trinitb,  because  there 
are  in  it  three  arches.  .  .  . 

"It  was  midnight  in  mid- winter,  and  a  full  moon  poured 
forth  all  its  light  over  Florence  as  if  it  would  fain  preserve  it 
in  amber,  and  over  the  olive  groves  as  if  they  had  become 
moss  agates.  .  .  . 

["  'Or  I,'  quoth  Flaxius,  *  a  fly  in  hock.'] 

"Yes,  it  was  a  clear,  cold,  Tuscan  night,  and  as  the  last 
peal  of  bells  went  out  into  eternity  and  faded  in  the  irrevo- 
cable, thousands  of  spirits  of  the  departed  began  to  appear, 
thronging  like  fireflies  through  the  streets,  visiting  their  ancient 
haunts  and  homes,  greeting,  gossiping,  arranging  their  affairs 
just  as  the  peasants  do  on  Friday  in  the  great  place  of  the 
Signoria,  as  they  have  done  for  centuries. 

"  Flaxius  looked  at  the  rolling  river  which  went  rushing  by 
at  his  feet,  and  said  : 

"  '  Arno  MM,  you  are  in  a  tremendous  hurry  to  get  to  the  sea, 
and  all  the  more  so  because  you  have  just  had  an  accessit — a 
remittance  of  rain  from  the  mountain-banks.  Buon  pro  vi 
faccia — much  good  may  it  do  you  !  So  every  shopman  hurries 
to  become  a  great  merchant  when  he  gets  some  money,  and 
every  farmer  a  signore,  and  every  signore  a  great  lord,  and 
every  great  lord  a  ruler  at  court  and  over  all  the  land — prorsum 
et  sursum.  And  when  they  get  there — or  when  you  get  to  the 
sea — then  ye  are  all  swallowed  up  in  greater  lives,  interests, 
and  actions,  and  so  the  rivers  run  for  ever  on,  larger  yet  ever 
seeming  less  unto  yourselves.  And  so — ad  altiora  tendunt 
omnes — the  flower-edged  torrent  and  the  Florentine.' .  .  . 

"  When  he  suddenly  heard  above  his  head  a  spirit  voice, 
clear,  sweet  and  strange,  ringing,  not  in  words,  but  tones  of 
unearthly  music— of  which  languages  there  are  many  among 
the  Unearthlies,  all  being  wordless  songs  or  airs  suggesting 
speech,  and  yet  conveying  ideas  far  more  rapidly.  It  was  the 
Goblin  of  the  Tower  calling  to  him  of  the  tower  next  beyond 
on  the  farther  hill,  and  he  said : 

"  *  How  many  ghosts  there  are  out  to-night ! ' 

" '  Yes ;  it  is  a  fine  night  for  ghosting.     Moonlight  is  mid- 


56  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

summer  for  them,  poor  souls !  But  I  say,  brother,  who  is 
yonder  frate,  the  dark  monk-spectre  who  always  haunts  your 
tower,  lingering  here  and  there  about  it  ?  What  is  the  spell 
upon  that  spirito  ? ' 

" '  He  is  one  to  be  pitied,'  replied  the  Goblin  of  the  Trinita. 
'  He  was  a  good  fellow  while  he  lived,  but  a  little  too  fond  of 
money.  He  was  afflicted  with  what  doctors  called,  when  I  was 
young  in  Rome,  the  amor  sceleratus  habendi.  So  it  came  to  pass 
that  he  died  leaving  a  treasure — milk  aureos — a  thousand  gold 
crowns  buried  in  my  tower  unknown  to  any  one,  and  for  that 
he  must  walk  the  earth  until  some  one  living  wins  the  money.' 

"  Flaxius  pricked  up  his  ears.  He  understood  all  that  the 
spirits  said,  but  they  had  no  idea  that  the  man  in  a  scholar's 
robe  who  sat  below  knew  Goblinese. 

"  *  What  must  a  mortal  do  to  get  the  gold  ? '  inquired  the 
second  goblin. 

"  *  Truly  he  must  do  what  is  well-nigh  impossible,'  replied 
the  Elf  of  the  Tower ;  '  for  he  must,  without  magic  aid — note 
that — bring  to  me  here  in  this  month  of  January  a  fresh  full- 
blown rose.' 

The  voices  were  silent ;  a  cloud  passed  over  the  face  of  the 
moon;  the  river  rushed  and  roared  on;  Flaxius  sat  in  a  Vandyke- 
brown  study,  thinking  how  he  could  obtain  peace  and  repose 
for  the  ghostly  monk,  and  also  get  \hs.  pecuniam. 

"'  Here  is,'  he  thought,  '  aliquid  laborare — something  to  be 
worked  out.  Now  is  the  time,  and  here  is  a  chance — ingirlan- 
darsi  di  lauro — to  win  the  laurel  wreath.  A  rose  in  January  ! 
What  a  pity  that  it  is  not  four  hundred  years  later,  when 
people  will  have  green-houses,  and  blue-nosed  vagabonds  will 
be  selling  red  roses  all  the  winter  long  in  the  Tornabuoni ! 
Truly  it  is  sometimes  inconvenient  to  be  in  advance  of  or 
behind  the  age. 

"' Eureka!  I  have  it,' he  at  last  exclaimed,  'by  the  neck 
and  tail.  I  will  spogliar  la  tesoria — rob  the  treasury  and  spoil 
the  Egyptian — si  non  in  errore  versatus  sum — unless  I  am 
stupendously  mistaken.  Monk  !  thy  weird  will  soon  be  dreed 
— 4hy  penance  prophesied  will  soon  be  o'er.' 

"  Saying  this  he  went  into  the  city.  And  there  the  next  day, 
going  to  a  fair  dame  of  his  acquaintance,  who  excelled  all  the 
ladies  of  all  Italy  in  ingenious  needlework,  he  had  made  of 
silk  a  rose ;  and  so  deftly  was  it  done,  that  had  it  been  put  on 
a  bush,  you  would  have  sworn  that  a  nightingale  would  have 
sung  to  it,  or  bee  have  sought  to  ravish  it. 


THE  GOBLIN  OF  THE  TOWER  DELLA  TRINITA     57 

"  Then  going  to  a  Venetian  perfumer's,  the  wise  Flaxius  had 
his  flower  well  scented  with  best  attar  of  roses  from  Constanti- 
nople, and  when  midnight  struck  he  was  at  the  tower  once 
more  calling  to  the  goblin. 

" '  Che  vuoi?    What  dost  thou  seek  ? '  cried  the  Elf. 

"  '  The  treasure  of  the  monk ! ' 

"  '  Bene  !     (jive  me  a  rose.' 

"  '  Ecco  I    There  it  is,'  replied  Flaxius,  extending  it. 

"  *  Non  fatit — it  won't  do,'  answered  the  goblin  (thinking 
Flaxius  to  be  a  monk).  *  It  is  a  sham  rose  artificially  coloured, 
murice  tincta  est.' 

"  '  Smell  it,'  replied  Flaxius  calmly. 

"  '  The  smell  is  all  right,  I  admit,'  answered  the  guardian  of 
the  gold.  '  The  perfume  is  delicious ; '  here  he  sniffed  at  it 
deeply,  being,  like  all  his  kind,  enraptured  with  perfume,  '  and 
that  much  of  it  is,  I  grant,  the  real  thing.' 

'"Now  tell  me,'  inquired  Flaxius,  'truly — religiose  testimo- 
nium  dicere — by  thy  great  ancestress  Diana  and  her  sister- 
double  Herodias  and  her  Nine  Cats,  by  the  Moon  and  the 
eternal  Shadow,  Endamone,  and  the  word  which  Bergoia  whis- 
pered into  the  ear  of  the  Ox,  and  the  Lamia  whom  thou 
lovest — what  is  it  makes  a  man  ?  Is  it  his  soul  or  his  body  ? ' 

" '  Man  of  mystery  and  master  of  the  hidden  lore,'  replied 
the  awe-struck  goblin,  'it  is  his  soul.1 

"  '  And  is  not  the  perfume  of  the  rose  its  soul — that  which 
breathes  its  life,  in  which  it  speaks  to  fairies  or  to  men  ?  Is 
not  the  voice  in  song  or  sweetened  words  the  perfume  of  the 
spirit,  ever  true  ?  Is  not ' 

"  '  I  give  it  up,'  replied  the  goblin.  c  The  priest  may  turn  in 
now  for  a  long,  long  nap.  Here,  take  his  gold,  and  ne  gioire 
tutto  d* allegrezza — may  you  have  a  merry  time  with  it.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  good  drinking  in  a  thousand  crowns  ;  and  if 
you  ever  try  to  ludere  latrunculis  vel  a/eis,  or  shake  the  bones 
or  dice,  I  promise  you  three  sixes.  By  the  way,  I'll  just  keep 
this  rose  to  remember  you  by.  Addio — a  rivederlei  ! ' 

"  So  the  bedesman  slept  amid  his  ashes  cold,  and  the  good 
Flaxius,  who  was  a  stout  carl  for  the  nonce,  with  a  broad  back 
and  a  great  beard,  returned,  bearing  a  mighty  sack  of  ancient 
gold,  which  stood  him  in  good  stead  for  many  a  day.  And 
the  goblin  is  still  there  in  the  tower." 

"  Hczcfabula  docet"  wrote  Flaxius  as  he  revised  the  proof 
with  a  red-lead  pencil,  for  which  he  had  paid  a  penny  in  the 
Calzolaio.  "  This  tale  teaches  that  in  this  life  there  is  naught 


58  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

which  hath  not  its  ideal  side  or  inner  soul,  which  may  raise 
us  to  higher  reflection  or  greater  profit,  if  we  will  but  seek  it. 
The  lower  the  man  the  lower  he  looks,  but  it  is  all  to  his  loss 
in  the  end.  Now  every  chapter  in  this  book,  O  my  son — or 
daughter — may  seem  to  thee  only  a  rose  of  silk,  yet  do  not 
stop  at  that,  but  try  to  find  therein  a  perfume.  For  thou  art 
thyself,  I  doubt  not,  such  a  rose,  even  if  thy  threads  (as  in 
most  of  us)  be  somewhat  worn,  torn,  or  faded,  yet  with  a  soul 
far  better  than  many  deem  who  see  thee  only  afar  off.  And 
this  my  book  is  written  for  the  perfume,  not  the  silk  of  my 
reader.  And  there  is  no  person  who  is  better  than  what  the 
world  deems  him  or  her  to  be  who  will  not  find  in  it  mar- 
vellous comfort,  solace,  and  satisfaction." 
Thus  wrote  Flaxius. 

Since  I  penned  the  foregoing  from  memory,  I  have 
found  the  Italian  text  or  original,  which  had  been  mislaid 
for  years.  In  it  the  tale  is  succinctly  told  within  the 
compass  of  forty  lines,  and  ends  with  these  words : 

"  '  Take  the  treasure,  and  give  me  the  rose  ! ' 
"And  so  the  spirit  gave  him  the  treasure  and  took  the  rose, 
and   the  poor  man  went  home  enriched,  and  the  priest  to 
sleep  in  peace— fra  gli  eterni — among  the  eternals." 

I  ought,  of  course,  to  have  given  scientifically  only  the 
text  word  for  word,  but  litera  scripta  manet — what  is 
written  remains,  and  Flaxius  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  and 
I  greatly  desired  to  introduce  him  to  my  readers.  And 
I  doubt  not  that  the  reviewers  will  tell  me  if  I  have 
sinned ! 

"  Do  a  good  deed,  or  aught  that's  fit, 
You  never  again  may  hear  of  it ; 
But  make  a  slip,  all  will  detect  it, 
And  every  friend  at  once  correct  it !  " 


THE  GHOST  OF  MICHEL  ANGELO 

u  If  I  believed  that  spirits  ne'er 
Return  to  earth  once  more, 
And  that  there's  naught  unto  them  clear 
In  the  life  they  loved  before  ; 
Then  truly  it  would  seem  to  me, 
However  fate  has  sped, 
For  souls  there's  no  eternity, 
And  they  and  all  are  dead. " 

IT  must  have  struck  every  one  who  has  read  the  life  of 
Michel  Angelo,  that  he  was,  like  King  James  the  First  of 
England,  "  nae  great  gillravager  after  the  girls,"  or  was 
far  from  being  susceptible  to  love — in  which  he  formed  a 
great  contrast  to  Raphael,  and  indeed  to  most  of  the  Men 
of  his  Time — or  any  other.  This  appears  to  have  im- 
pressed the  people  of  Italy  as  something  even  more 
singular  than  his  works,  for  which  reason  he  appears  in 
popular  tradition  as  a  good  enough  goblin,  not  without 
cheerfulness  and  song,  but  as  one  given  to  tormenting 
enamoured  couples  and  teasing  lady  artists,  whom  he 
subsequently  compliments  with  a  gift.  The  legend  is  as 
follows : 

Lo  SPIRITO  DI  MICHELE  ANGIOLO  BUONAROTTI. 

"  The  spirit  of  Michel  Angelo  is  seen  mostly  by  night,  in 
woods  or  groves.  The  good  man  appears  as  he  did  in  life, 
come  era  prima,  ever  walking  among  trees  singing  poetry.  He 
amuses  himself  very  much  by  teasing  lovers — a  dare  noia  agli 
amoretti — and  when  he  finds  a  pair  who  have  hidden  them- 
selves under  leaves  and  boughs  to  make  love,  he  waits  till 
they  think  they  are  well  concealed,  and  then  begins  to  sing. 
And  the  two  feel  a  spell  upon  them  when  they  hear  his  voice, 
and  can  neither  advance  nor  retreat. 

59 


60  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Then  all  at  once  opening  the  leafy  covert,  he  bursts  into  a 
peal  of  laughter ;  and  the  charm  being  broken,  they  fly  in  fear, 
because  they  think  they  are  discovered,  and  it  is  all  nothing 
but  the  spirit  of  Michel  Angelo  Buonarotti. 

"When  some  lady-artist  goes  to  sketch  or  paint,  be  it  al 
piazzale,  in  open  places,  or  among  the  woods,  it  is  his  delight 
to  get  behind,  and  cause  her  to  blunder,  scrawl,  and  daub 
(fare  degli  scarabocchi}.  And  when  the  artist  is  angered,  she 
will  hear  a  loud  peal  of  laughter ;  and  if  this  irritates  her  still 
more,  she  will  hear  a  song,  and  yet  not  perceive  the  singer. 
And  when  at  last  in  alarm  she  catches  up  her  sketch,  all 
scrawled  and  spoiled,  and  takes  to  flight,  she  will  hear  the 
song  following  her,  and  yet  if  she  turns  her  head  she  will  see 
no  one  pursuing.  The  voice  and  melody  are  always  beautiful. 
But  it  is  marvellously  lucky  to  have  this  happen  to  an  artist, 
for  when  she  gets  home  and  looks  at  her  sketch,  she  finds  that 
it  is  neither  scrawled  nor  daubed,  but  most  exquisitely  executed 
in  the  style  of  Michel  Angelo." 

It  is  marvellous  how  the  teasing  faun  or  Silvanus  of 
the  Romans  has  survived  in  Tuscany.  I  have  found  him 
in  many  forms,  under  many  names,  and  this  is  the  last. 
But  why  it  should  be  Michel  Angelo,  I  cannot  imagine, 
unless  it  be  that  his  face  and  stump  nose,  so  familiar  to 
the  people,  are  indeed  like  that  of  the  faun.  The  dii 
sylvestres,  with  all  their  endless  mischief,  riotry,  and 
revelry,  were  good  fellows,  and  the  concluding  and  rather 
startling  touch  that  the  great  artist  in  the  end  always 
bestows  a  valuable  picture  on  his  victim  is  really  godlike 
— in  a  small  way. 

It  is  remarkable  as  a  coincidence,  that  Michel  Angelo 
was  himself  during  life  terribly  annoyed  and  disturbed  by 
people  prying  and  speering  about  him  while  painting — 
especially  by  Pope  Leo — for  whom  he  nevertheless  painted 
very  good  pictures.  It  would  almost  seem  as  if  there 
were  an  echo  of  the  event  in  the  legend.  Legend  is  the 
echo  of  history. 

"  This  legend,"  remarks  Flaxius,  "  may  give  a  valuable  hint 
to  collectors.  Many  people  are  aware  that  there  are  in  exist- 


THE  GHOST  OF  MICHEL  ANGELO  61 

ence  great  numbers  of  sketchings  and  etchings  attributed  to 
Michel  Angelo,  Diirer,  Raphael,  Marc  Antonio,  and  many 
more,  which  were  certainly  executed  long  since  those  brothers 
of  the  paint  or  pencil  passed  away.  May  it  not  be  that  the 
departed  still  carry  on  their  ancient  callings  by  the  aid  of  new 
and  marvellous  processes  to  us  as  yet  unknown,  or  by  what 
may  be  called  'pneumato-gravure'?  Who  knows? — 'tis  a 
great  idea,  my  masters ; — let  us  pass  on  or  legit  unto  another 
legend ! 

"  '  Well  I  ween  it  may  be  true 
That  afar  in  fairyland 
Great  artists  still  pursue 
That  which  in  life  they  knew, 
And  practise  still,  with  ever  bettering  hand, 
Sculpture  and  painting,  all  that  charm  can  bring, 
While  by  them  all  departed  poets  sing.'  " 


THE  APPARITION  OF  DANTE 

"  Musa  profonda  dei  Toscani,  il  Dante, 

II  nobil  cittadin,  nostro  Alighieri, 

Alia  filosofia  ricco  e  brillante 

Purgo  il  linguaggio  e  corredo  i  pensieri ; 

E  nell'  opera,  sua  fatto  gigante 

A  Campaldino  nei  primi  guerrieri ; 

Lui  il  Purgatorio,  Paradise  e  Inferno 

Fenomeno  terren,  poeta  eterno  ! " 

— Le  Statue  disotto  gli  Ufizi  in  Fireneze.  Ottave 
improvisate  da  Giuseppe  Moroni  detto  II 
Nicchieri  (Illiterate).  Florence,  1892. 

IT  has  been  boldly  asserted  by  writers  who  should 
know  better,  that  there  are  no  ghosts  in  Italy,  possibly 
because  the  two  only  words  in  the  language  for  such 
beings  are  the  equivocal  ones  of  spirito  or  spirit,  and 
spettro  or  spectre — or  specter,  as  the  Websterians  write  it — 
which  is  of  itself  appalling  as  a  terrific  spell.  But  the 
truth  is  that  there  is  no  kind  of  spuk,  goblin,  elf,  fairy, 
gnome,  or  ouphe  known  to  all  the  North  of  Europe  which 
was  not  at  home  in  Italy  since  old  Etruscan  days,  and 
ghosts,  though  they  do  not  make  themselves  common,  are 
by  no  means  as  rare  as  eclipses.  For,  as  may  be  read  in 
my  "Etruscan  Roman  Legends,"  people  who  will  look 
through  a  stone  with  a  hole  in  it  can  behold  no  end  of 
revenants,  or  returners,  in  any  churchyard,  and  on  fine 
nights  the  seer  can  see  them  swarming  in  the  streets  of 
Florence.  Giotto  is  in  the  campanile  as  a  gentle  ghost 
with  the  fairy  lamb,  and  Dante,  ever  benevolent,  is  all 
about  town,  as  appears  from  the  following,  which  was 

unexpectedly  bestowed  on  me  : 

62 


THE  APPARITION  OF  DANTE  63 

Lo  SPIRITO  DI  DANTE  ALIGHIERI. 

"  When  any  one  is  passionately  fond  of  poetry,  he  should 
sit  by  night  on  the  panchina l  in  the  piazza  or  square  of  Santa 
Croce  or  in  other  places  (i.e.,  those  haunted  by  Dante),  and 
having  read  his  poetry,  pronounce  the  following : 

"'Dante,  che  eri 
La  gran  poeta, 
Siei  morto,  ma  vero, 
II  tuo  spirito 
E  sempre  rimasto, 
Sempre  per  nostro 
Nostro  aiuto. 

"  '  Ti  chiamo,  ti  prego  ! 
E  ti  scongiuro ! 
A  voler  aiutarmi. 
Questa  poesia 
Voglio  imparare ; 
Di  piii  ancora, 
Non  voglio  soltanto 
Imparar  la  a  cantare, 
Ma  voglio  imparare 
Di  mia  testa 
Poter  le  scrivere, 
E  cosi  venire 
Un  bravo  poeta  ! ' 

'"Thou  Dante,  who  wert 
Such  a  great  poet, 
Art  dead,  but  thy  spirit 
Is  truly  yet  with  us, 
Here  and  to  aid  us. 

"'I  call  thee,  I  pray  thee, 
And  I  conjure  thee  ! 
Give  me  assistance  ! 
I  would  learn  perfectly 
All  of  this  poetry. 
And  yet,  moreover, 
I  would  not  only 
Learn  it  to  sing  it, 
But  I  would  learn  too 
How  I  may  truly 
From  my  head  write  it, 
And  become  really 
An  excellent  poet ! ' 

"  And  then  a  form  of  a  man  will  approach  from  around 
the  statue  (da  canto\  advancing  gently— piano-piano — to  the 

1  Raised  footway,  high  curbstone,  causeway,  bench. 


64  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

causeway,  and  will  sit  on  it  like  any  ordinary  person,  and 
begin  to  -read  the  book,  and  the  young  man  who  has  invoked 
the  poet  will  not  fail  to  obtain  his  wish.  And  the  one  who 
has  come  from  the  statue  is  no  other  indeed  than  Dante 
himself. 

"  And  it  is  said  that  if  in  any  public  place  of  resort  or  inn 
(bettold)  any  poet  sings  the  poems  of  Dante,  he  is  always 
present  among  those  who  listen,  appearing  as  a  gentleman  or 
poor  man — secondo  il  locale — according  to  the  place. 

"  Thus  the  spirit  of  Dante  enters  everywhere  without  being 
seen. 

"  If  his  poems  be  in  the  house  of  any  person  who  takes  no 
pleasure  in  them,  the  spirit  of  the  poet  torments  him  in  his 
bed  (in  dreams)  until  the  works  are  taken  away." 


There  is  a  simplicity  and  directness  in  this  tradition, 
as  here  told,  which  proves  the  faith  of  the  narrator. 
Washington  Irving  found  that  the  good  people  of  East 
Cheap  had  become  so  familiar  with  Shakespearian  comedy 
as  to  verily  believe  that  Falstaff  and  Prince  Hal  and 
Dame  Quickly  had  all  lived,  and  still  haunted  the  scenes 
of  their  former  revels ;  and  in  like  manner  the  Florentine 
has  followed  the  traditions  of  olden  time  so  closely  and 
lovingly,  that  all  the  magnates  of  the  olden  time  live  for 
him  literally  at  the  present  day.  This  is  in  a  great 
measure  due  to  the  fact  that  statues  of  all  the  celebrities 
of  the  past  are  in  the  most  public  places,  and  that  there 
are  many  common  traditions  to  the  effect  that  all  statues 
at  certain  times  walk  about  or  are  animated. 

One  of  the  commonest  halfpenny  or  soldo  pamphlets 
to  be  found  on  the  stand  of  all  open-air  dealers  in  ballads 
— as,  for  instance,  in  the  Uffizzi — is  a  collection  of  poems 
on  the  statues  around  that  building,  which  of  itself  indi- 
cates the  interest  in  the  past,  and  the  knowledge  of  poets 
and  artists  possessed  by  the  common  people.  For  the 
poorest  of  them  are  not  only  familiar  with  the  names,  and 
more  or  less  with  the  works,  of  Orcagna,  Buonarotti, 
Dante,  Giotto,  Da  Vinci,  Raffaelle,  Galileo,  Machiavelli, 


THE  APPARITION  OF  DANTE  65 

and  man}'  more,  but  these  by  their  counterfeit  present- 
ments have  entered  into  their  lives  and  live.  Men  who 
are  so  impressioned  make  but  one  bold  step  over  the 
border  into  the  fairyland  of  faith  while  the  more  cultured 
are  discussing  it. 

I  do  not,  with  some  writers,  believe  that  a  familiarity 
with  a  few  names  of  men  whose  statues  are  always  before 
them,  and  from  whose  works  the  town  half  lives,  indicates 
an  indescribably  high  culture  or  more  refined  nature  in 
a  man,  but  I  think  it  is  very  natural  for  him  to  make 
legends  on  them.  There  are  three  other  incantations 
given  in  another  chapter,  the  object  of  which,  like  this 
to  Dante,  is  to  become  a  poet. 

"  From  which  \ve  learn  that  in  the  fairy  faith,"  writes 
Flaxius,  with  ever-ready  pen,  "  that  poets  risen  to  spirits  still 
inspire,  even  in  person,  neophytes  to  song. 

"  '  Life  is  a  state  of  action,  and  the  store 
Of  all  events  is  aggregated  there 
That  variegate  the  eternal  universe  ; 
Death  is  a  gate  of  dreariness  and  gloom, 
That  leads  to  azure  isles  and  beaming  skies  .  .  . 
Therefore,  O  spirit,  fearlessly  bear  on.'  " 


LEGENDS  OF  LA    CERTOSA 

"  '  Now  when  ye  moone  like  a  golden  flowre, 

In  ye  sky  above  doth  bloome, 
He  lett  doune  a  basket  in  that  houre, 

And  pull  ye  upp  to  my  roome, 
And  give  mee  a  kisse  if  tis  yes,'  he  cryed  ; 

Ye  mayden  would  nothing  refuse  ; 
But  held  upp  hir  lippes — 

Oh  I  would  I  had  beene 
Just  thenn  in  that  friar's  shoos." 

IF  we  pass  the  Porta  Romana,  and  keep  on  for  three 
miles,  we  shall  arrive  at  the  old  Carthusian  convent  of 
La  Certosa  in  Val  d'Ema.  Soon  after  passing  "  the  village 
of  Galluzzo,  where  the  stream  is  crossed,  we  come  to 
an  ancient  gateway  surmounted  by  a  statue  of  Saint 
Laurence,  through  ivhich  no  female  could  enter  except  by 
permission  of  the  archbishop,  and  out  which  no  monk 
could  pass."  At  least,  it  is  so  stated  in  a  justly  famous 
English  guide-book,  though  it  does  not  explain  how  any 
"  female  "  could  enter  the  saint,  nor  whether  the  female 
in  question  belonged  to  the  human  species,  or  was  fish, 
flesh,  or  red-herring.  I  should,  however,  incline  to  be- 
lieve the  latter  is  meant,  as  "herring"  is  a  popular 
synonym  for  a  loose  fish. 

The  Certosa  was  designed  and  built  in  the  old  Italian 
Gothic  style  by  Andrea  Orcagna,  it  having  been  founded 
in  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century  by  Niccolo  Accia- 
juoli,  who  was  of  a  great  Florentine  family,  from  whom 
a  portion  of  the  Lung  Arno  is  named.  The  building  is 
on  a  picturesque  hill,  400  feet  above  the  union  of  the 
brooks  called  the  Ema  and  the  Greve,  the  whole  forming 

66 


LEGENDS  OF  LA  CERTOSA  67 

a  charming  view  of  a  castled  monastery  of  the   Middle 
Ages. 

There  is  always,  among  the  few  monks  who  have  been 
allowed  to  remain,  an  English  or  Irish  brother,  to  act  as 
cicerone  to  British  or  American  visitors,  and  show  them 
the  interesting  tombs  in  the  crypt  or  subterranean  church, 
and  the  beautiful  chapels  and  celebrated  frescoes  in  the 
church.  These  were  painted  by  Poccetti,  and  I  am  told 
that  among  them  there  is  one  which  commemorates  or 
was  suggested  by  the  following  legend,  which  I  leave  the 
reader  to  verify,  not  having  done  so  myself,  though  I 
have  visited  the  convent,  which  institution  is,  however, 
popularly  more  distinguished — like  many  other  monas- 
teries— as  a  distillery  of  holy  cordial  than  for  aught  else  : 

AL  CONVENTO  BELLA  CERTOSA. 

"  There  was  in  this  convent  a  friar  called  II  Beato  Dyonisio, 
who  was  so  holy  and  such  a  marvellous  doctor  of  medicine, 
that  he  was  known  as  the  Frate  Miraculoso  or  Miraculous 
Brother. 

"And  when  any  of  the  fraternity  fell  ill,  this  good  medico 
would  go  to  them  and  say,  '  Truly  thou  hast  great  need  of  a 
powerful  remedy,  O  my  brother,  and  may  it  heal  and  purify 
thy  soul  as  well  as  thy  body  ! ' l  And  it  always  befell  that  when 
he  had  uttered  this  conjuration  that  the  patient  recovered  ; 
and  this  was  specially  the  case  if  after  it  they  confessed  their 
sins  with  great  devoutness. 

"  Brother  Dyonisio  tasted  no  food  save  bread  and  water ;  he 
slept  on  the  bare  floor  of  his  cell,  in  which  there  was  no  object 
to  be  seen  save  a  scourge  with  great  knots ;  he  never  took  off 
his  garments,  and  was  always  ready  to  attend  any  one  taken  ill. 

"The  other  brothers  of  the  convent  were,  however,  all  jolly 
monks,  being  of  the  kind  who  wear  the  tunic  as  a  tonic  to 
give  them  a  better — or  bitter — relish  for  secular  delights,  holding 
that  it  is  far  preferable  to  have  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  for  a 
little  penitence  than  per  poco  placer  gran  penitenza  —  much 

1  "  D'una  gran  purga  bisogna  avele, 
E  questa  purga  davero  dovete 
Farla  all'  anima,  cosi  guariretc  !  " 


68  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

penitence  for  very  little  pleasure.  In  short,  they  were  just  at 
the  other  end  of  the  rope  away  from  Brother  Dyonisio,  inas- 
much as  they  ate  chickens,  bistecche  or  beef-steaks,  and  drank 
the  best  wine,  even  on  fast-days — giorni  di  vigiglia — and  slept 
in  the  best  of  beds  ;  yes,  living  like  lords,  and  never  bothering 
themselves  with  any  kind  of  penance,  as  all  friars  should  do. 

"  Now  there  was  among  these  monks  one  who  was  a  great 
besiemmiatore,  a  man  of  evil  words  and  wicked  ways,  who  had 
led  a  criminal  life  in  the  world,  and  only  taken  refuge  in  the 
disguise  of  a  monk  in  the  convent  to  escape  the  hand  of 
justice.  Brother  Dyonisio  knew  all  this,  but  said  nothing ; 
nay,  he  even  exorcised  away  a  devil  whom  he  saw  was  always 
invisibly  at  the  sinner's  elbow,  awaiting  a  chance  to  catch  him 
by  the  hair ;  but  the  Beato  Dyonisio  was  too  much  for  him, 
and  kept  the  devil  ever  far  away. 

"  And  this  was  the  way  he  did  it : 

"  It  happened  one  evening  that  this  finto  frate,  or  mock 
monk  or  feigned  friar,  took  it  into  his  head,  out  of  pure  mis- 
chief, and  because  it  was  specially  forbidden,  to  introduce  a 
donna  di  mala  vita,  or  a  girl  of  no  holy  life,  into  the  convent 
to  grace  a  festival,  and  so  arranged  with  divers  other  scape- 
graces that  the  damsel  should  be  drawn  up  in  a  basket. 

"  And  sure  enough  there  came  next  morning  to  the  outer 
gate  a  fresh  and  jolly  black-eyed  contadina,  who  asked  the 
mock  monk  whether  he  would  give  her  anything  in  charity. 
And  the  finto  frate  answering  sang  : 

"  « You  shall  have  the  best  of  meat, 
Anything  you  like  to  eat, 
Cutlets,  macaroni,  chickens, 
Every  kind  of  dainty  pickings. 
Pasticcie  and  fegatelli, 
Salame  and  mortadelle, 
With  good  wine,  if  you  are  clever, 
For  a  very  trifling  favour  ! ' 

"  To  which  the  girl  replied : 

"  '  Here  I  am,  as  here  you  see  ! 

What  would'st  thou,  holy  man,  with  me  ? ' 

"  The  friar  answered : 

"  '  When  thou  hear'st  the  hoots  and  howls 
At  midnight  of  the  dogs  and  owls, 
And  when  all  men  are  sunk  in  sleep, 
And  only  witches  watch  do  keep, 


LEGENDS  OF  LA  CERTOSA  69 

Come  'neath  the  window  unto  me, 
And  there  thou  wilt  a  basket  see 
I  lung  by  a  rope  as  from  a  shelf, 
And  in  that  basket  stow  thyself, 
And  I  alone  will  draw  thee  up, 
Then  with  us  thou  shall  gaily  sup.' 


"  But  the  girl  replied,  as  if  in  fear  : 


"  '  But  if  the  rope  should  break  away, 
Oh,  then  there'd  be  the  devil  to  pay, 
Oh,  holy  father,  first  for  thee — 
But  most  especially  for  me  ! 
For  if  by  evil  luck  I'd  cracked  your 
Connecting  cord,  my  limbs  I'd  fracture  ! ' 

"  The  friar  sang  : 

"  '  The  rope  is  good,  as  it  is  long, 

The  basket's  tough,  my  arms  are  strong, 
Have  thou  no  fear  upon  that  score, 
T'as  hoisted  many  a  maid  before  ; 
For  often  such  a  basket-full 
Did  I  into  a  convent  pull, 
And  many  more  I  trust  will  I 
Draw  safely  up  before  1  die.' 

"  And  at  midnight  the  girl  was  there  walking  beneath  the 
windows  awaiting  the  hour  to  rise — Ascensionem  expectans — 
truly  not  to  heaven,  nor  from  any  great  liking  for  the  monks, 
but  for  a  great  fondness  for  roast-chickens  and  good  wine, 
having  in  her  mind's  eye  such  a  supper  as  she  had  never 
before  enjoyed,  and  something  to  carry  home  with  her. 

"  So  at  last  there  was  a  rustling  sound  above,  as  a  window 
softly  opened,  and  a  great  basket  came  vibrating  down  below ; 
and  the  damsel,  well  assured,  got  into  it  like  a  hen  into  her 
nest,  while  the  lusty  friar  above  began  to  draw  like  an  artist. 

"  Now  the  Beato  frate  Dyonisio,  knowing  all  that  passed 
round  about  by  virtue  of  his  holy  omniscience,  determined  to 
make  manifest  to  the  monks  that  things  not  adapted  to  piety 
led  them  into  the  path  of  eternal  punishment. 

"  Therefore,  just  as  the  basket-full  of  girl  touched  the  window 
of  the  convent,  it  happened  by  the  virtue  of  the  holy  Dyonisio 
that  the  rope  broke  and  the  damsel  came  with  a  capi  tombola 
somerset  or  first-class  tumble  into  the  street ;  but  as  she,  poor 
soul,  had  only  sinned  for  a  supper,  which  she  greatly  needed 
and  seldom  got,  she  was  quit  for  a  good  fright,  since  no  other 
harm  happened  to  her. 


70  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  But  it  was  far  otherwise  with  the  wicked  monk,  who  had 
only  come  into  that  holy  monastery  to  stir  up  sin ;  for  he, 
leaning  too  far  over  at  the  instant,  fell  with  an  awful  howl  to 
the  ground,  where  he  roared  so  with  pain  that  all  the  other 
monks  came  running  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  And  they 
found  him  indeed,  more  dead  than  alive,  terribly  bruised,  yet 
in  greater  agony  of  mind  than  of  body,  saying  that  Satan  had 
tempted  him,  and  that  he  would  fain  confess  to  the  Beato 
Dyonisio,  who  alone  could  save  him. 

"Then  the  good  monk  tended  him,  and  so  exhorted  him 
that  he  left  his  evil  ways  and  became  a  worthy  servant  of  God, 
and  the  devil  ceased  to  tempt  him.  And  in  due  time  Brother 
Dyonisio  died,  and  as  a  saint  they  interred  him  in  the  crypt 
under  the  convent,  and  the  morning  after  his  burial  a  beautiful 
flower  was  found  growing  from  his  tomb,  and  so  they  sainted 
him. 

"  The  fall  of  the  girl  was  a  scandal  and  cause  of  laughter 
for  all  Florence,  so  that  from  that  day  the  monks  never  ventured 
more  to  draw  up  damsels  in  baskets." 

This  story  is  so  widely  spread  in  many  forms,  that  the 
reader  can  hardly  have  failed  to  have  heard  it ;  in  fact, 
there  are  few  colleges  where  it  has  not  happened  that  a 
basket  has  not  been  used  for  such  smuggling.  One  of  the 
most  amusing  instances  is  of  a  damsel  in  New  Haven, 
or  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  who  was  very  forgetful. 
One  day  she  said  to  a  friend,  "  You  have  no  idea  how 
wicked  some  girls  are.  The  other  morning  early — I  mean 
late  at  night — I  was  going  by  the  college  when  I  saw  a 
girl  being  drawn  up  in  a  basket  by  some  students,  when 
all  at  once  the  rope  broke — and  down  I  came" 

In  Germany,  as  in  the  East,  the  tale  is  told  of  a  wooer 
who  is  drawn  up  half-way  in  a  basket  and  then  let  re- 
main for  everybody  to  behold.  In  Uhland's  Old  Ballads 
there  is  one  to  this  effect  of  Heinrich  Corrade  der 
Schreiber  im  Korbe.  Tales  on  this  theme  at  least  need 
not  be  regarded  as  strictly  traditional. 

There  is  another  little  legend  attached  to  La  Certosa 
which  owes  its  small  interest  to  being  told  of  a  man  who 


LEGENDS  OF  LA  CERTOSA  71 

was  one  of  the  Joe  Millers  of  Italy  in  the  days  of  the 
Medici.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  humorists  do  most 
abound  and  are  most  popular  in  great  epochs  of  culture. 

Domenico  Barlacchi  was  a  banditore — herald  or  public 
crier — of  Florence,  commonly  known  as  II  Barlacchia,  who 
lived  in  the  time  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  and  who,  being 
molto  piacei'ole  e  face  to,  or  pleasing  and  facetious,  as  I 
am  assured  by  an  ancient  yellow  jest-book  of  1636  now 
before  me,  became,  like  Piovano  Arlotto  and  Gonella,  one 
of  the  famous  wits  of  his  time.  It  is  worth  noting, 
though  it  will  be  no  news  to  any  folk-lorist,  that  in  these 
flying  leaves,  or  fleeting  collections  of  facetiae,  there  are 
many  more  indications  of  familiar  old  Florentine  life  than 
are  to  be  gleaned  from  the  formal  histories  which  are 
most  cited  by  writers  who  endeavour  to  illustrate  it. 

"One  morning  Barlacchia,  with  other  boon  companions, 
went  to  La  Certosa,  three  miles  distant  from  Florence,1  where, 
having  heard  mass,  they  were  taken  over  the  convent  by  one 
of  the  friars,  who  showed  them  the  convent  and  cells.  Of 
which  Barlacchia  said  'twas  all  very  fine,  but  that  he  would 
like  to  see  the  wine-cellar — sentendosi  egli  hauer  sete — as  he 
felt  great  thirst  sadly  stealing  over  him. 

"  To  which  the  friar  replied  that  he  would  gladly  show  them 
that  part  of  the  convent,  but  that  unfortunately  the  Decano 
who  kept  the  keys  was  absent.  [Decano,  dean  or  deacon,  may 
be  rendered  roughly  in  English  as  a  dog,  or  literally  of  a  dog 
or  currish.]  To  which  Barlacchia  replied,  'Truly  I  am  sorry 
for  it,  and  I  wish  you  were  all  df  cani  or  dogs  ! ' 

Times  have  changed,  and  whether  this  tale  brought 
about  the  reform  I  cannot  say,  but  it  is  certain  that  the 
good  monks  at  present,  without  waiting  to  be  asked, 
generally  offer  a  glass  of  their  famous  cordial  to  visitors. 
Tastes  may  differ,  but  to  mine,  when  it  is  old,  the  green 
Certosa,  though  far  cheaper,  is  superior  to  Chartreuse. 

1  It  appears  from  this  story  that  La  Certosa  was  "  even  then  as  now  " 
visited  by  strangers  as  one  of  the  lions  of  Florence. 


72  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Another  tale  of  Barlacchia,  which  has  a  certain  theo- 
logical affinity  with  this  story,  is  as  follows : 

"A  great  illness  once  befell  Barlacchia,  so  that  it  was 
rumoured  all  over  Florence  that  he  was  dead,  and  great  was 
the  grieving  thereover.  But  having  recovered,  by  the  grace 
of  God,  he  went  from  his  house  to  the  palace  of  the  Grand 
Duke,  who  said  to  him  : 

"  *  Ha  !  art  thou  alive,  Barlacchia  ?  We  all  heard  that  thou 
wert  dead.' 

"  '  Signore,  it  is  true,'  was  his  reply.  '  I  was  indeed  in  the 
other  world,  but  they  sent  me  back  again,  and  that  for  a  mere 
trifle,  which  you  forgot  to  give  me.' 

"'And  what  was  that?'  asked  the  Duke. 

"  *  I  knocked,'  resumed  Barlacchia,  '  at  the  gate  of  heaven, 
and  they  asked  me  who  I  was,  what  I  had  done  in  the  world, 
and  whether  I  had  left  any  landed  property.  To  which  I 
replied  no,  never  having  begged  for  anything.  So  they  sent 
me  off,  saying  that  they  did  not  want  any  such  poor  devils 
about  them — non  volevano  la  simile  dapochi.  And  therefore, 
illustrious  Signore,  I  make  so  bold  as  to  ask  that  you  would 
kindly  give  me  some  small  estate,  so  that  another  time  I  may 
not  be  turned  away.' 

"Which  so  pleased  the  magnificent  and  liberal  Lorenzo 
that  he  bestowed  on  Barlacchia  a  podere  or  farm. 

"  Now  for  a  long  time  after  this  illness,  Barlacchia  was  very 
pale  and  haggard,  so  that  everybody  who  met  him  (and  he 
was  well  known  to  everybody)  said,  'Barlacchia,  mind  the  rules' 
— meaning  the  rules  of  health;  or  else,  'Barlacchia,  look  to 
yourself;'  or  regolati!  or guardatevi ! — till  at  last  he  became  tired 
with  answering  them.  So  he  got  several  small  wooden  rules 
or  rulers,  such  as  writers  use  to  draw  lines,  and  hung  them  by 
a  cord  to  his  neck,  and  with  them  a  little  mirror,  and  when 
any  one  said  ' Regolati '' — 'mind  the  rules,'  he  made  no  reply, 
but  looked  at  the  sticks,  and  when  they  cried  '  Guardatevi  I1 
he  regarded  himself  in  the  mirror,  and  so  they  were  answered." 

This  agrees  with  the  sketch  of  Lorenzo  as  given  by 
Oscar  Browning  in  his  admirable  "Age  of  the  Condottieri," 
a  short  history  of  Mediaeval  Italy  from  1409  to  1530: 

"  Lorenzo  was  a  bad  man  of  business ;  he  spent  such  large 
sums  on  himself  that  he  deserved  the  appellation  of  the 


LEGENDS  OF  LA  CERTOSA  73 

Magnificent.  He  reduced  himself  to  poverty  by  his  extrava- 
gance ;  he  alienated  his  fellow-citizens  by  his  lust  .  .  .  and  was 
shameless  in  the  promotion  of  his  private  favourites." 

Yet  with  all  this  he  was  popular,  and  left  a  legendary 
fame  in  which  generosity  rivals  a  love  of  adventure.  I 
have  collected  many  traditions  never  as  yet  published 
relating  to  him,  and  in  all  he  appears  as  a  bon  prince. 

"  But  verily  when  I  consider  that  what  made  a  gallant  lord 
four  hundred  years  ago  would  be  looked  after  now  by  the 
Lord  Chancellor  and  the  law  courts  with  a  sharp  stick,  I 
must  needs,"  writes  Flaxius,  "  exclaim  with  Spenser  sweet : 

"  '  Me  seemes  the  world  is  run  quite  out  of  square, 
For  that  which  all  men  once  did  Vertue  call, 
Is  now  called  Vice,  and  that  which  Vice  was  hight 
Is  now  hight  Vertue,  and  so  used  of  all ; 
Right  now  is  wrong,  and  wrong  that  was,  is  right, 
As  all  things  else  in  time  are  changed  quight,' " 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BRIDGES  IN  FLORENCE 

"  I  stood  upon  a  bridge  and  heard 

The  water  rushing  by, 
And  as  I  thought,  to  every  word 
The  water  made  reply. 

I  looked  into  the  deep  river, 

I  looked  so  still  and  long, 
Until  I  saw  the  elfin  shades 

Pass  by  in  many  a  throng. 

They  came  and  went  like  starry  dreams, 

For  ever  moving  on, 
As  darkness  takes  the  starry  beams 

Unnoted  till  they're  gone." 

THERE  is  something  in  a  bridge,  and  especially  in  an  old 
one,  which  has  been  time-worn  and  mossed  into  harmony 
with  surrounding  nature,  which  has  always  seemed 
peculiarly  poetical  or  strange  to  men.  Hence  so  many 
legends  of  devil's  bridges,  and  it  is  rather  amusing  when 
we  reflect  how,  as  Pontifex,  he  is  thus  identified  with  the 
head  of  the  Church.  Thus  I  once,  when  attending  law 
lectures  in  Heidelberg  in  1847,  heard  Professor  Mitter- 
maier  say,  that  those  who  used  the  saying  of  "  the  divine 
right  of  kings "  as  an  argument  reminded  him  of  the 
peasants  who  assumed  that  every  old  bridge  was  built 
by  the  devil.  It  is,  however,  simply  the  arch,  which  in  any 
form  is  always  graceful,  and  the  stream  passing  through 
it  like  a  living  thing,  which  forms  the  artistic  attraction 
or  charm  of  such  structures.  I  have  mentioned  in  my 
"  Memoirs "  that  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  was  once  im- 
pressed by  a  remark,  the  first  time  I  met  him,  to  the 
effect  that  a  vase  in  a  room  had  the  effect  of  a  bridge 

74 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BRIDGES  IN  FLORENCE       75 

in  a  landscape — at  least,  he  recalled  it  at  once  when  I  met 
him  twenty  years  later. 

The  most  distinguished  bridge,  from  a  legendary  point 
of  view,  in  Europe,  was  that  of  Saint  John  Nepomuc  in 
Prague — recently  washed  away  owing  to  stupid  neglect ; 
the  government  of  the  city  probably  not  supporting,  like 
the  king  in  the  opera-bouffe  of  "  Barbe  Bleu,"  a  commis- 
sioner of  bridges.  The  most  picturesque  work  of  the 
kind  which  I  recall  is  that  of  the  Ponte  Maddalena — also 
a  devil's  bridge — at  the  Bagni  di  Lucca.  That  Florence  is 
not  wanting  in  legends  for  its  bridges  appears  from  the 
following : 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  PONTE  VECCHIO  OR  OLD  BRIDGE. 

"  He  who  passes  after  midnight  on  the  Ponte  Vecchio  can 
always  see  a  form  which  acts  as  guard,  sometimes  looking  like 
a  beggar,  sometimes  like  a  guardia  di  sicnrezza,  or  one  of  the 
regular  watchmen,  and  indeed  appearing  in  many  varied  forms, 
but  generally  as  that  of  a  watchman,  and  always  leaning  on 
the  bridge. 

"And  if  the  passer-by  asks  him  any  such  questions  as 
these:  'Chi  siei?'— 'Cosa  fai?'— 'Dove  abiti?'— 'Ma  vien' 
con  me  ? '  That  is  :  '  Who  are  you  ? '— '  What  dost  thou  do  ? ' 
— '  Where  is  your  home  ? ' — '  Wilt  with  me  come  ? ' — he  seems 
unable  to  utter  anything ;  but  if  you  ask  him,  '  Who  am  I  ? '  it 
seems  to  delight  him,  and  he  bursts  into  a  peal  of  laughter 
which  is  marvellously  loud  and  ringing,  so  that  the  people  in 
the  shops  waking  up  cry,  '  There  is  the  goblin  of  the  Ponte 
Vecchio  at  his  jests  again  ! '  For  he  is  a  merry  sprite,  and 
then  they  go  to  sleep,  feeling  peaceably  assured  that  he  will 
watch  over  them  as  of  yore. 

"And  this  he  really  does  for  those  who  are  faithful  unto 
him.  And  those  who  believe  in  spirits  should  say  sincerely : 

"  '  Spirito  del  Ponte  Vecchio, 
Guardami  la  mia  bottega  ! 
Guardami  dagli  ladroni ! 
Guardami  anche  dalla  Strega  ! ' 

"  '  Spirit  of  the  ancient  bridge  ! 

Guard  my  shop  and  all  my  riches, 
From  the  thieves  who  prowl  by  night, 
And  especially  from  witches  ! ' 


76  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Then  the  goblin  ever  keeps  guard  for  them.  And  should 
it  ever  come  to  pass  that  thieves  break  into  a  shop  which  he 
protects,  he  lets  them  work  away  till  they  are  about  to  leave, 
when  he  begins  to  scream  '  Al  ladro  !  al  ladro  !'  and  follows 
them  till  they  are  taken. 

"But  when  the  police  have  taken  the  thief,  and  he  is 
brought  up  to  be  interrogated,  and  there  is  a  call  for  the 
individual  who  was  witness  (quando  le  guardie  vanno  per  in- 
terrogare  rindividuo  che  si  e  trovato  presente),  lo  and  behold  he 
has  always  disappeared. 

"  And  at  times,  when  the  weather  is  bad,  he  prowls  about 
the  bridge  in  the  form  of  a  cat  or  of  a  he-goat,  and  should 
any  very  profane,  abusive  rascal  (bestemmiatore)  come  along,- 
the  spirit  as  a  goat  will  go  before,  running  nimbly,  when  all 
at  once  the  latter  sinks  into  the  earth,  from  which  flames 
play  forth,  to  the  great  terror  of  the  sinner,  while  the  goblin 
vanishes  laughing." 

I  have  very  little  doubt  that  this  guardian  spirit  of  the 
bridge  is  the  same  as  Teramo,  i.e.,  Hermes  Mercury,  who 
is  believed  in  the  Toscana  Romana  to  betray  thieves 
when  they  commit  murder.  But  Mercury  was  also  a 
classic  guardian  of  bridges. 

This  merry  goblin  of  the  Ponte  Vecchio  has  a  colleague 
not  far  away  in  the  Spirito  del  Ponte  alia  Carraia^  the 
legend  of  which  is  as  follows.  And  here  I  would  note, 
once  for  all,  that  in  almost  every  case  these  tales  were 
written  out  for  me  in  order  to  secure  the  greater  accuracy, 
which  did  not  however  always  ensure  it,  since  even  Miss 
Roma  Lister,  who  is  to  the  manor  or  manner  born,  often 
had  with  me  great  trouble  in  deciphering  the  script.  For 
verily  it  seems  to  be  a  decree  of  destiny  that  every- 
thing traditional  shall  be  involved,  when  not  in  Egyp- 
tian or  Himaritic,  or  Carthaginian  or  Norse-Runic,  at 
least  in  some  diabolical  dialect,  so  anxious  is  the  Spirit 
of  the  past  to  hide  from  man  the  things  long  passed 
away. 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BRIDGES  IN  FLORENCE       77 


AL   PONTE   ALLA    CARRAIA. 

"  By  the  Arno,  or  under  the  Bridge  alia  Carraia,  there  lived 
once  a  certain  Marocchio,1  a  bestemmiatore,  or  blasphemer,  for 
he  cursed  bitterly  when  he  gained  but  little,  being  truly  a 
marocchio,  much  attached  to  money.  Even  in  dying  he  still 
swore.  And  Marocchio  had  sold  himself  to  the  devil,  and 
hidden  his  money  under  a  stone  in  the  arch  of  the  bridge. 
Yet  though  he  had  very  poor  relations  and  friends,  he  confided 
nothing  to  them,  and  left  niente  a  nessuno,  *  nothing  to  nobody.' 
Whence  it  came  that  after  his  death  he  had  no  rest  or  peace, 
because  his  treasure  remained  undiscovered. 

"  Yet  where  the  money  lay  concealed  there  was  seen  every 
night  the  form  of  a  goat  which  cast  forth  flames,  and  running 
along  before  those  who  passed  by,  suddenly  sunk  into  the 
ground,  disappearing  in  a  great  flash  of  fire. 

"And  when  the  renaioli  or  sand-diggers,2  thinking  it  was  a 
real  goat,  would  catch  it  by  the  hair,  it  cast  forth  fire,  so  that 
many  of  them  died  of  fright.  And  it  often  overthrew  their 
boats  and  made  all  the  mischief  possible. 

"Then  certain  people  thinking  that  all  this  indicated  a 
hidden  treasure,  sought  to  find  it,  but  in  vain ;  till  at  last  one 
who  was  piu  furbo,  or  shrewder  than  the  rest,  observed  that 
one  day,  when  the  wind  was  worse  than  usual,  raising  skirts 
and  carrying  away  caps  and  hats,  there  was  a  goat  in  all  the 
hurly-burly,  and  that  this  animal  vanished  at  a  certain  spot. 
'  There  I  ween,'  he  said,  '  lies  money  hid ! '  And  knowing 
that  midnight  is  the  proper  time  or  occasion  (cagione  di  nascosto 
tesoro}  for  buried  hoards,  he  came  at  the  hour,  and  finding 
the  habitual  goat  (il  solito  chaprone\  he  addressed  him  thus : 

" '  If  thou  art  a  blessed  soul,  then  go  thy  way  in  peace,  and 
God  be  with  thee.  But  if  thou  sufTerest  from  buried  treasure, 
then  teach  me  how  I,  without  any  fear,  may  take  thy  store, 
then  thou  mayst  go  in  peace  !  And  if  thou  art  in  torment  for 
a  treasure,  show  me  the  spot,  and  I  will  take  it  home,  and 
then  thou'lt  be  at  peace  and  grieve  no  more.' 

1  This  word  is  apparently  allied  to  Marrano,  an  infidel  Moor,  miscreant, 
traitor,  or  to  amaro,  bitter  or  painful. 

2  A  peculiarly  Florentine  word.     Renajo,  sand-pit,  a  place  so  called 
near  the  Arno  in  Florence  (Barretti's  Dictionary).     I  can  see  several  of 
these  renaioli  with  their  boats  from  the  window  at  work  before  me  as  I 
write.     Vide  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Arno." 


78  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"Then  the  goat  jumped  on  the  spot  where  the  money  was 
hidden  and  sank  as  usual  out  of  sight  in  fire. 

"So  the  next  day  the  young  man  went  there  and  dug  till 
he  discovered  the  gold,  and  the  spirit  of  Marocchio  was  re- 
lieved. But  to  this  hour  the  goat  is  seen  now  and  then  walking 
in  his  old  haunt,  where  he  sinks  into  the  ground  at  the  same 
place." 

The  legend  of  a  goat  haunting  a  bridge  is  probably 
derived  from  the  custom  of  sacrificing  an  animal  to  new 
buildings  or  erections.  These  were  originally  human 
sacrifices,  for  which,  in  later  times,  the  animals  were 
substituted.  Hence  the  legends  of  the  devil  having  been 
defrauded  out  of  a  promised  soul  by  driving  a  goat  or 
cat  over  the  bridge  as  a  first  crosser.  The  spirits  of  the 
Ponte  Vecchio  and  Ponte  alia  Carraia  clearly  indicate 
this  origin. 

The  next  legend  on  this  subject  is  that  of  the  Ponte 
alle  Grazie,  which  was  built  by  Capo,  the  fellow-pupil 
of  Arnolfo,  under  the  direction  of  Rubaconte,  who  filled 
the  office  of  Podesta  in  1235.  Five  hundred  years  are 
quite  time  enough  to  attract  traditions  in  a  country  where 
they  spring  up  in  five ;  and  when  I  inquired  whether  there 
was  any  special  story  attached  to  the  Ponte  alle  Grazie, 
I  was  soon  supplied  with  the  following : 

LE  PONTE  ALLE  GRAZIE. 

"When  one  passes  under  a  bridge,  or  in  halls  of  great 
palaces,  or  the  vault  of  a  church,  or  among  high  rocks,  if  he 
calls  aloud,  he  will  hear  what  is  called  the  echo  of  his  voice. 

"  Yet  it  is  really  not  his  own  voice  which  he  hears,  but  the 
mocking  voices  of  spirits,  the  reason  being  that  they  are  con- 
fined to  these  places,  and  therefore  we  do  not  hear  them  in  the 
open  air,  where  they  are  free.  But  we  can  hear  them  clearly 
in  great  places  enclosed,  as,  for  instance,  under  vaults,  and  far 
oftener  in  the  country,  because  in  limited  spaces  their  voices 
are  confined  and  not  lost.  And  these  are  the  voices  of  people 
who  were  merry  and  jovial  while  on  earth,  and  who  now  take 
delight  a  rifare  il  verso,  to  re-echo  a  strain. 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BRIDGES  IN  FLORENCE        79 

"  But  under  the  Ponte  alle  Grazie  we  hear  the  cry  of  the 
spirit  of  a  girl.  She  was  very  beautiful,  and  had  grown  up 
from  infancy  in  constant  companionship  with  a  youth  of  the 
neighbourhood,  and  so  from  liking  as  children  they  went  on 
to  loving  at  a  more  advanced  age,  with  greater  fondness  and 
with  deeper  passion. 

"  And  it  went  so  far  that  at  last  the  girl  found  herself  with 
child,  and  then  she  was  in  great  trouble,  not  knowing  how  to 
hide  this  from  her  parents.  Sta  beccata  da  una  serpe,  as  the 
proverb  is ;  *  she  had  been  stung  by  a  serpent,'  and  now  began 
to  feel  the  poison.  But  the  youth  was  faithful  and  true,  and 
promised  to  marry  her  as  soon  as  he  could  possibly  arrange 
matters.  So  she  was  quieted  for  a  time. 

"  But  she  had  a  vilely  false  friend,  and  a  most  intimate  one, 
in  a  girl  who.  being  a  witch,  or  of  that  kind,  hated  her  bitterly 
at  heart,  albeit  she  knew  well  portare  bene  la  maschera,  how 
to  wear  the  mask. 

"Now  the  poor  girl  told  this  false  friend  that  she  was 
enceinte,  and  that  her  lover  would  marry  her ;  and  the  dear 
friend  took  her,  as  the  saying  is,  a  trip  to  Volterra,  during 
which  a  man  was  treated  like  a  prince  and  robbed  or  murdered 
at  the  end.  For  she  insinuated  that  the  marriage  might  fail, 
and  meantime  she,  the  friend,  would  consult  witches  and  fate, 
who  would  get  her  out  of  her  troubles  and  make  all  right  as 
sure  as  the  Angelus.  And  the  false  friend  went  to  the  witches, 
but  she  took  them  a  lock  of  hair  from  the  head  of  the  lover 
to  conjure  away  his  love  and  work  harm.  And  knowing  what 
the  bridal  dress  would  be,  she  made  herself  one  like  it  in  every 
detail.  And  she  so  directed  that  the  bride  on  the  wedding 
morning  shut  herself  up  in  a  room  and  see  no  one  till  she 
should  be  sent  for. 

"  The  bride-to-be  passed  the  morning  in  great  anxiety,  and 
while  waiting  there  received  a  large  bouquet  of  orange-flowers 
as  a  gift  from  her  friend.  And  these  she  had  perfumed  with 
a  witch-powder.  And  the  bride  having  inhaled  the  scent,  fell 
into  a  deep  sleep,  or  rather  trance,  during  which  she  was 
delivered  of  a  babe,  and  knew  nothing  of  it.  Now  the  people 
in  the  house  hearing  the  child  cry,  ran  into  the  room,  and 
some  one  ran  to  the  bridegroom,  who  was  just  going  to  be 
married  to  the  false  friend,  who  had  by  aid  of  the  witches  put 
on  a  face  and  a  false  seeming,  the  very  counterpart  of  her  he 
loved. 

"  Then  the  unfortunate  girl  hearing  that  her  betrothed  was 


8o  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

being  married,  and  maddened  by  shame  and  grief,  rushed  in 
her  bride's  dress  through  the  streets,  and  coming  to  the 
Bridge  delle  Grazie,  the  river  being  high,  threw  herself  into  it 
and  was  drowned ;  still  holding  the  bouquet  of  orange-blossoms 
in  her  hand,  she  was  carried  on  the  torrent  into  death. 

"  Then  the  young  man,  who  had  discovered  the  cheat,  and 
whose  heart  was  broken,  said,  '  As  we  were  one  in  life,  so  we 
will  be  in  death,'  and  threw  himself  into  the  Arno  from  the 
same  place  whence  she  had  plunged,  and  like  her  was  drowned. 
And  the  echo  from  the  bridge  is  the  sound  of  their  voices,  or 
of  hers.  Perhaps  she  answers  to  the  girls  and  he  to  the  men  ; 
anyhow  they  are  always  there,  like  the  hymns  in  a  church." 

There  is  a  special  interest  in  the  first  two  paragraphs 
of  this  story,  as  indicating  how  a  person  who  believes  in 
spirits,  and  is  quite  ignorant  of  natural  philosophy,  ex- 
plains phenomena.  It  is  precisely  in  this  manner  that 
most  early  science  was  confused  with  superstition;  and 
there  is  more  of  it  still  existing  than  even  the  learned  are 
aware  of. 

I  know  not  whether  echoes  are  more  remarkable  in 
and  about  Florence  than  elsewhere,  but  they  are  certainly 
specially  noticed  in  the  local  folk-lore,  and  there  are 
among  the  witches  invocations  to  echoes,  voices  of  the 
wind,  and  similar  sounds.  One  of  the  most  remarkable 
echoes  which  I  ever  heard  is  in  the  well  of  the  Villa 
Guicciardini,  now  belonging  to  Sir  John  Edgar.  It  is 
very  accurate  in  repeating  every  sound  in  a  manner  so 
suggestive  of  a  mocking  goblin,  that  one  can  easily  be- 
lieve that  a  peasant  would  never  doubt  that  it  was  caused 
by  another  being.  It  renders  laughter  again  with  a 
singularly  strange  and  original  effect.  Even  when  stand- 
ing by  or  talking  near  this  mystic  fount,  the  echo  from 
time  to  time  cast  back  scraps  of  phrases  and  murmurs,  as 
if  joining  in  the  conversation.  It  is  worth  observing 
(vide  the  story  of  the  Three  Horns)  that  this  villa  once 
belonged  to — and  is,  as  a  matter  of  course,  haunted  by 
the  ghost  of — Messer  Guicciardini,  the  great  writer,  who 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BRIDGES  IN  FLORENCE       81 

was  himself  a  faithful  echo  of  the  history  of  his  country, 
and  of  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients.  Thus  into  things  do 
things  repeat  themselves,  and  souls  still  live  in  what  sur- 
rounded them.  I  have  not  seen  this  mystic  well  noticed 
in  any  of  the  Florentine  guide-books  of  any  kind,  but  its 
goblin  is  as  well  worthy  an  interview  as  many  better 
known  characters.  Yea,  it  may  be  that  he  is  the  soul  of 
Guicciardini  himself,  but  when  I  was  there  I  forgot  to  ask 
him  if  it  were  so  ? 

I  can,  however,  inform  the  reader  as  to  the  incantation 
which  is  needed  to  call  to  the  spirit  of  the  well  to  settle 
this  question.  Take  a  copy  of  his  "  Maxims  "  and  read 
them  through ;  then  drink  off  one  glass  of  wine  to  the 
health  of  the  author,  and,  bending  over  the  well,  dis- 
tinctly cry — "Sei  Messer  Guicciardini,  di  cosi?  " — strongly 
accentuating  the  last  syllable.  And  if  the  reply  be  in 
the  affirmative,  you  may  draw  your  own  conclusions. 
For  those  who  are  not  Italianate,  it  will  do  quite  as  well 
if  they  cry,  "  Guicciardini  ?  No  or  yes  ? "  For  even 
this  echo  is  not  equal  to  the  Irish  one,  which  to  "  How 
do  yon  do  ?  "  replied,  "  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you  !  " 

There  is  a  very  good  story  of  the  Ponte  alle  Grazie, 
anciently  known  as  the  Rubaconte,  from  the  Podestct  in 
whose  year  of  office  it  was  built,  told  originally  by 
Sachetti  in  his  Novelle  and  Manni,  Veglie  Piacevoli,  who 
drew  it  indeed  from  Venetian  or  Neapolitan-Oriental 
sources,  and  which  is  best  told  by  Leader  Scott  in  "The 
Echoes  of  Old  Florence."  It  still  lives  among  the  people, 
and  is  briefly  as  follows,  in  another  form : 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  PONTE  ALLE  GRAZIE. 

"  There  was  once  in  Florence  a  Podesth.  or  chief  magistrate 
named  Rubaconte,  and  he  had  been  chosen  in  the  year  1236, 
nor  had  he  been  long  in  office  when  a  man  called  Bagnai, 
because  he  kept  a  public  bath,  was  brought  before  him  on  the 
charge  of  murder. 


82  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  And  Bagnai,  telling  his  tale,  said :  '  This  is  the  very 
truth — ne  f avola  ne  canzone  di  tavola — for  I  was  crossing  the 
river  on  the  little  bridge  with  a  hand-rail  by  the  Palazzo  Mozzi, 
when  there  came  riding  over  it  a  company  of  gentlemen. 
And  it  befell  that  I  was  knocked  over  the  bridge,  and  fell  on  a 
man  below  who  was  washing  his  feet  in  the  Arno,  and  lo ! 
the  man  was  killed  by  my  dropping  on  him.' 

"  Now  to  the  Podesta  this  was  neither  eggs  nor  milk,  as  the 
saying  is,  and  he  could  at  first  no  more  conclude  on  it  than  if 
one  had  asked  him,  '  Chi  nacque  prima — Fuavo  o  la  gallinaV 
' Which  was  born  first — the  hen  or  the  egg?'  For  on  one 
side  the  bagnajolo  was  innocent,  and  on  the  other  the  dead 
man's  relations  cried  for  vengeance.  But  after  going  from  one 
side  of  his  brain  to  the  other  for  five  minutes,  he  saw  '  from 
here  to  the  mountain,'  and  said  : 

" '  Now  I  have  listened  to  ye  both,  and  this  is  a  case  where 
one  must — 

"  { Non  giudicar  per  legge  ni  per  carte, 
Se  non  ascolti  1'un  e  1'altra  parte.' 

"  '  Judge  not  by  law-books  nor  by  chart, 
But  look  with  care  to  either  part.' 

"  *  And  as  it  is  said,  "  Berta  must  drink  from  her  own  bottle," 
so  I  decree  that  the  bagnaio  shall  go  and  wash  his  feet  in  the 
Arno,  sitting  in  the  same  place,  and  that  he  who  is  the  first  of 
his  accusers  shall  fall  from  the  bridge  on  his  neck,  and  so  kill 
him/ 

"  And  truly  this  settled  the  question,  and  it  was  agreed  that 
the  Podestk  was  piu  savio  de  gli  statuti — wiser  even  than  the 
law  itself. 

"  But  then  Rubaconte  did  an  even  wiser  thing,  for  he  de- 
termined to  have  a  new  bridge  built  in  place  of  the  old  one, 
and  hence  came  the  Ponte  alle  Grazie,  '  of  which  he  himself 
laid  the  first  foundation-stone,  and  carried  the  first  basket  of 
mortar,  with  all  due  civic  ceremony,  in  I236.'1 

"But  as  it  is  said,  'he  who  has  drunk  once  will  drink 
again,'  it  came  to  pass  that  Bagnai  had  to  appear  once  more 
as  accused  before  the  Podestk.  One  day  he  met  a  man  whose 
donkey  had  fallen  and  could  not  rise.  'Twas  on  the  Ponte 
Vecchio. 

"  The  owner  seized  the  donkey  by  the  head,  Bagnai  caught 
him  by  the  tail,  and  pulled  so  hard  that  the  tail  came  off! 

1  "  Echoes  of  Old  Florence,"  by  Temple  Leader. 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BRIDGES  IN  FLORENCE       83 

"  Then  the  contadino  or  asinaio  had  Bagnai  brought  before 
the  Podesta,  and  claimed  damages  for  his  injured  animal. 
And  Rubaconte  decided  that  Bagnai  should  keep  the  ass  in 
his  stable,  and  feed  him  well — until  the  tail  had  grown 
again. 

"As  may  be  supposed,  the  asinaio  preferred  to  keep  his 
ass  himself,  and  go  no  farther  in  the  case." 

This  ancient  tale  recalls  that  of  Zito,  the  German  magi- 
cian conjuror,  whose  leg  was  pulled  off.  It  is  pretty 
evident  that  the  donkey's  tail  had  been  glued  on  for  the 
occasion. 

I  may  here  add  something  relative  to  the  folk-lore  of 
bridges,  which  is  not  without  interest.  I  once  asked  a 
witch  in  Florence  if  such  a  being  as  a  spirit  of  the  water 
or  one  of  bridges  and  streams  existed ;  and  she  replied  : 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  spirit  of  the  water  as  there  is  of  fire,  and 
everything  else.  They  are  rarely  seen,  but  you  can  make 
them  appear.  How  ?  Oh,  easily  enough,  but  you  must 
remember  that  they  are  capricious,  and  appear  in  many  de- 
lusive forms.1 

"  And  this  is  the  way  to  see  them.  You  must  go  at  twi- 
light and  look  over  a  bridge,  or  it  will  do  if  it  be  in  the  day- 
time in  the  woods  at  a  smooth  stream  or  a  dark  pool — che  sia 
un  poco  oscuro — and  pronounce  the  incantation,  and  throw  a 
handful  or  a  few  drops  of  its  water  into  the  water  itself.  And 
then  you  must  look  long  and  patiently,  always  thinking  of  it 
for  several  days,  when,  poco  a  poco,  you  will  see  dim  shapes 
passing  by  in  the  water,  at  first  one  or  two,  then  more  and 
more,  and  if  you  remain  quiet  they  will  come  in  great  numbers, 
and  show  you  what  you  want  to  know.  But  if  you  tell  any  one 
what  you  have  seen,  they  will  never  appear  again,  and  it  will 
be  well  for  you  should  nothing  worse  happen. 

"There  was  a  young  man  at  Civitella  in  the  Romagna 
Toscana,  and  he  was  in  great  need  of  money.  He  had  lost 
an  uncle  who  was  believed  to  have  left  a  treasure  buried 
somewhere,  but  no  one  knew  where  it  was.  Now  this  nephew 
was  a  reserved,  solitary  youth,  always  by  himself  in  lone  places, 

1  Like  Proteus,  the  evasive  slippery  nature  of  water  and  the  light  which 
plays  on  it  accounts  for  this. 


84  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

among  ruins  or  in  the  woods — un  poco  streghon — a  bit  of  a 
wizard,  and  he  learned  this  secret  of  looking  into  streams  or 
lakes,  till  at  last,  whenever  he  pleased,  he  could  see  swarms  of 
all  kinds  of  figures  sweeping  along  in  the  water. 

"  And  one  evening  he  thus  saw,  as  in  a  glass,  the  form  of 
his  uncle  who  had  died,  and  in  surprise  he  called  out  *  Zio 
mio ! ' — *  My  uncle  ! '  Then  the  uncle  stopped,  and  the  youth 
said,  *  Didst  thou  but  know  how  I  am  suffering  from  poverty  ! ' 
When  he  at  once  beheld  in  the  water  his  home  and  the  wood 
near  it,  and  a  path,  and  the  form  of  his  uncle  passed  along 
the  path  to  a  lonely  place  where  there  was  a  great  stone. 
Then  the  uncle  pointed  to  the  stone  and  vanished.  The 
next  day  the  young  man  went  there,  and  under  the  stone  he 
found  a  great  bag  of  gold — and  I  hope  that  the  same  may 
happen  to  all  of  us  ! 

"  '  He  who  has  sheep  has  wool  in  store  ; 
He  who  has  mills  hath  plenty  of  flour  ; 
He  who  hath  land  hath  these  at  call ; 
He  who  has  money  has  got  them  all. '  " 


THE  BASHFUL  LOVER 

A   LEGEND  OF   THE  CHIESA  SANTA   LUCIA   IN   THE 
VIA  DE'  BARDI 

"  She  never  told  her  love— oh  no  ! 
For  she  was  mild  and  meek, 
And  his  for  her  he  dared  not  show, 
Because  he  hadn't  the  cheek. 
'Tis  pity  this  should  e'er  be  past, 
For,  to  judge  by  what  all  men  say, 
'Twere  best  such  difference  should  last 
Unto  our  dying  day." 

ALL  who  have  visited  Florence  have  noticed  the  Church 
of  Santa  Lucia  in  the  Via  de'  Bardi,  from  the  figure  of 
the  patron  with  two  angels  over  the  door  in  Lucca  della 
Robbia  ware.  Of  this  place  of  worship  there  is  in  a  jest- 
book  a  droll  story,  which  the  reader  may  recall  when  he 
enters  the  building. 

"  A  young  Florentine  once  fell  desperately  in  love  with  a 
beautiful  lady  of  unsullied  character  and  ready  wit,  and  so 
followed  her  about  wherever  she  went ;  but  he  being  sadly 
lacking  in  wit  and  sense,  at  all  four  corners,  never  got  the 
nearer  to  her  acquaintance,  though  he  told  all  his  friends  how 
irresistible  he  would  be,  and  what  a  conquest  he  would  make, 
if  he  could  only  once  get  a  chance  to  speak  to  her.  Yet  as 
this  lady  prized  ready  wit  and  graceful  address  in  a  man  above 
all  things,  it  will  be  seen  that  his  chance  was  thin  as  a  strip 
of  paper. 

"  But  one  festa  the  lady  went  to  the  Church  of  Santa  Lucia 
in  the  Via  dei  Bardi,  and  one  of  the  friends  of  the  slow-witted 
one  said  to  him,  '  Now  is  the  lucky  hour  and  blooming  chance 
for  you.  Go  up  and  speak  to  her  when  she  approaches  the 
font  to  take  holy  water.' 


86  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Now  the  lover  had  prepared  a  fine  speech  for  the  lady, 
which  he  had  indeed  already  rehearsed  many  times  to  his 
friends  with  great  applause ;  but  when  it  came  to  utter  it  to 
the  lady  a  great  and  awful  fear  fell  on  him,  the  words  vanished 
— vanished  from  his  memory,  and  he  was  dumb  as  a  dead  ass. 
Then  his  friend  poking  him  in  the  ribs,  whispered  in  his  ear, 
'  But  say  something,  man,  no  matter  what ! ' 

"  So  with  a  gasp  he  brought  out  at  last,  c  Signora,  I  would 
fain  be  your  humble  servant.' 

"  To  which  the  lady,  smiling,  replied,  '  Well,  I  have  already 
in  my  house  plenty  of  humble  servants,  and  indeed  only  too 
many  to  sweep  the  rooms  and  wash  the  dishes,  and  there  is 
really  no  place  for  another.  .  .  .' 

"And  the  young  man  turned  aside  with  sickness  in  his 
heart.  His  wooing  for  that  holiday  was  o'er." 

This  may  be  matched  with  the  story  of  a  bashful  New 
England  lover  of  the  olden  time,  for  there  are  none  such 
now-a-days : — 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  ever  got  courage  to  do  it ;  but  one 
evening  I  went  courting  Miss  Almira  Chapin. 

"  And  when  she  came  in,  I  sat  for  half-an-hour,  and  dared 
not  say  a  word.  At  last  I  made  a  desperate  dash  and  got  out, 
'  Things  are  looking  very  green  out  of  doors,  Miss  Almira.' 

"  And  she  answered,  c  Seems  to  me  they're  looking  a  great 
deal  greener  in  doors  this  evening.' 

"  That  extinguished  me,  and  I  retreated.  And  when  I  was 
outside  I  burst  into  tears." 


LA    FORTUNA 

A   LEGEND  OF  THE  VIA  DE'  CERCHI 

"  One  day  Good  Luck  came  to  my  home, 

I  begged  of  her  to  stay. 
1  There's  no  one  loves  you  more  than  I, 

Oh,  rest  with  me  for  aye,' 
'  It  may  not  be  ;  it  may  not  be, 
I  rest  with  no  one  long,'  said  she." 

— "  Witch  Ballads?  by  C.  G.  LELAND. 

THE  manner  in  which  many  of  the  gods  in  exile  still 
live  in  Italy  is  very  fully  illustrated  by  the  following 
story: 

"  It  is  a  hard  thing  sometimes  now-a-days  for  a  family  to 
pass  for  noble  if  they  are  poor,  or  only  poor  relations.  But  it 
was  easy  in  the  old  time,  Signore  Carlo,  easy  as  drinking 
good  Chianti.  A  signore  had  only  to  put  his  shield  with 
something  carved  on  it  over  his  window,  and  he  was  all  right. 
He  was  noble  senza  dubbio. 

"Now  the  nobles  ,had  their  own  noble  stories  as  to  what 
these  noble  pictures  in  stone  meant,  but  the  ignoble  people 
often  had  another  story  just  as  good.  Coarse  woollen  cloth 
wears  as  well  as  silk.  Now  you  may  see  on  an  old  palazzo  in 
the  Via  de'  Cerchi,  and  indeed  in  several  other  places,  a  shield 
with  three  rings.  But  people  call  them  three  wheels.  And 
this  is  the  story  about  the  three  wheels." 

LA  FORTUNA. 

"  There  was  a  man,  tanto  buono,  as  good  as  could  be,  who 
lived  in  squalid  misery.  He  had  a  wife  and  two  children,  one 
blind  and  another  storpia  or  crippled,  and  so  ugly,  both — non 
si  dice — beyond  telling  ! 

"  This  poor  man  in  despair  often  wept,  and  then  he  would 
repeat : 

87 


88  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

" l  The  wheel  of  Fortune  turns,  they  say, 
But  for  me  it  turns  the  other  way  ; 
I  work  with  good-will,  but  do  what  I  may, 
I  have  only  bad  luck  from  day  to  day.' 

" '  Yes,  little  to  eat  and  less  to  wear,  and  two  poor  girls,  one 
blind  and  one  lame.  People  say  that  Fortune  is  blind  herself, 
and  cannot  walk,  but  she  does  not  bless  those  who  are  like 
her,  that  is  sure ! '  And  so  he  wailed  and  wept,  till  it  was 
time  to  go  forth  to  seek  work  to  gain  their  daily  bread.  And 
a  hard  time  he  had  of  it. 

"  Now  it  happened  that  very  late  one  night,  or  very  early  one 
morning,  as  one  may  say,  between  dark  and  dawn,  he  went  to 
the  forest  to  cut  wood.  When  having  called  to  Fortune  as 
was  his  wont — Ai!  what  was  his  surprise  to  see — tutta  ad  un 
tratto  —  all  at  once,  before  his  eyes,  a  gleam  of  light,  and 
raising  his  head,  he  beheld  a  lady  of  enchanting  beauty  passing 
along  rapidly,  and  yet  not  walking — on  a  rolling  ball — e  cion- 
dolava  le  gambe — moving  her  limbs — I  cannot  say  feet,  for  she 
had  none.  In  place  of  them  were  two  wheels,  and  these 
wheels,  as  they  turned,  threw  off  flowers  from  which  there 
came  delicious  perfume. 

"The  poor  man  uttered  a  sigh  of  relief  seeing  this,  and 
said : 

"'Beautiful  lady,  believe  me  when  I  say  that  I  have  in- 
voked thee  ever}'  day.  Thou  art  the  Lady  of  the  Wheels  of 
Fortune,  and  had  I  known  how  beautiful  thou  art,  I  would 
have  worshipped  thee  for  thy  beauty  alone.  Even  thy  very 
name  is  beautiful  to  utter,  though  I  have  never  been  able  to 
couple  it  with  mine,  for  one  may  see  that  I  am  not  one  of  the 
fortunate.  Yet,  though  thou  art  mine  enemy,  give  me,  I  pray, 
just  a  little  of  the  luck  which  flies  from  thy  wheel ! 

" '  Yet  do  not  believe,  I  pray,  that  I  am  envious  of  those 
who  are  thy  favourites,  nor  that  because  thou  art  my  enemy 
that  I  am  thine,  for  if  thou  dost  not  deem  that  I  am  worthy, 
assuredly  I  do  not  deserve  thy  grace,  nor  will  I,  like  many, 
say  that  Fortune  is  not  beautiful,  for  having  seen  thee,  I  can 
now  praise  thee  more  than  ever.' 

" '  I  do  not  cast  my  favours  always  on  those  who  deserve 
them,'  replied  Fortune,  '  yet  this  time  my  wheel  shall  assist 
thee.  But  tell  me,  thou  man  of  honesty  and  without  envy, 
which  wouldst  thou  prefer — to  be  fortunate  in  all  things  thy- 
self alone,  or  to  give  instead  as  much  good  luck  to  two  men 
as  miserable  as  thou  art?  If  thou  wilt  gain  the  prize  for 


LA  FORTUNA  89 

thyself  alone,  turn  and  pluck  one  of  these  flowers  !  If  for 
others,  then  take  two.' 

"  The  poor  man  replied  :  '  It  is  far  better,  lady,  to  raise  two 
families  to  prosperity  than  one.  As  for  me,  I  can  work,  and 
I  thank  God  and  thee  that  I  can  do  so  much  good  to  so 
many,  although  I  do  not  profit  by  it  myself;'  and  saying  this, 
he  advanced  and  plucked  two  flowers. 

"P'ortune  smiled.  'Thou  must  have  heard,'  she  said,  'that 
where  I  spend,  I  am  lavish  and  extravagant,  and  assuredly 
thou  knowest  the  saying  that  "  Three  is  the  lucky  number,"  or 
nine.  Now  I  make  it  a  rule  that  when  I  relieve  families,  I 
always  do  it  by  threes — la  spando  a  trefamiglie — so  do  thou 
go  and  pluck  a  flower  for  thyself ! ' 

"  Then  the  poor  man,  hearing  this,  went  to  the  wheels,  and 
let  them  turn  till  a  very  large  fine  flower  came  forth,  and 
seized  it,  whereat  Fortune  smiled,  and  said  : 

" '  I  always  favour  the  bold.  Now  go  and  sit  on  yonder 
bench  till  some  one  comes.'  And  saying  this,  she  vanished. 

"There  came  two  very  poor  woodcutters  whom  he  knew 
well.  One  had  two  sons,  another  a  son  and  a  daughter,  and 
one  and  all  were  as  poor  and  miserable  as  could  be. 

" '  What  has  come  over  thee,  that  thou  art  looking  so  hand- 
some and  young,'  said  one  amazed,  as  he  came  up. 

"  *  And  what  fine  clothes  ! '  remarked  the  second. 

" '  It  shall  be  so  anon  for  ye  both,'  replied  the  favourite  of 
Fortune ;  '  only  take  these  flowers  and  guard  them  well.' 

"Si,  Signore,  they  sat  down  on  the  bench  three  beggars,  and 
they  rose  three  fine  cavaliers,  in  velvet  and  satin,  with  gold- 
mounted  swords,  and  found  their  horses  and  attendants  waiting. 
And  when  they  got  home,  they  did  not  know  their  wives  or 
children,  nor  were  they  known  unto  them,  and  it  was  an  hour 
before  all  was  got  right.  Then  all  went  with  them  as  if  it 
were  oiled.  The  first  man  found  a  great  treasure  the  very 
first  day  in  his  cellar — in  fine,  they  all  grew  rich,  and  the 
three  sons  married  the  three  girls,  and  they  all  put  the  three 
wheels  on  their  scudi.  One  of  the  wheels  is  the  ball  on  which 
Fortune  rolled  along,  and  the  other  two  are  her  feet ;  or  else 
the  three  men  each  took  a  wheel  to  himself.  Anyhow,  there 
they  are,  pick  and  choose,  Signore — chi  ha  piu  cervello,  fusil 
— let  him  who  has  brains,  brain  ! 

"Now,  it  is  a  saying  that  ogni  for  non  fa  frutto — every 
blossom  doth  not  bear  a  fruit — but  the  flowers  of  Fortune 
bear  fruit  enough  to  make  up  for  the  short  crop  elsewhere. 


90  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  But  there  is  some  sense  and  use  in  such  stories  as  these, 
Signore,  after  all ;  for  a  poor  devil  who  half  believes — and  very 
often  quite  believes  in  them — gets  a  great  deal  of  hope  and 
comfort  out  of  them.  They  make  him  trust  that  luck  or 
fairies  or  something  will  give  him  a  good  turn  yet  some  day — 
chi  sa  ? — and  so  he  hopes,  and  truly,  as  they  say  that  no  pretty 
girl  is  ever  quite  poor,  so  no  man  who  hopes  is  ever  really 
broken — grazie,  Signore !  I  hope  to  tell  you  another  story 
before  long." 

There  is  something  in  the  making  Fortune  with  two 
wheels  for  feet  which  suggests  a  memory  of  skate-rollers. 

I  once  published  an  article  in  the  Ethnologische  Monats- 
heft  of  Budapest,  which  set  forth  more  fully  the  idea 
expressed  in  this  tale,  that  the  popular  or  fairy  tale  is  a 
source  of  comfort,  or  a  Bible  to  the  poor,  for  it  always 
teaches  the  frequently  delusive,  but  always  cheering  lesson 
that  good-luck  or  fortune  may  turn  up  some  day,  even 
for  the  most  unfortunate.  The  Scripture  promises  happi- 
ness for  the  poorest,  or  indeed  specially  for  the  poorest 
in  the  next  life;  the  fairy  tale  teaches  that  Cinderella, 
the  despised,  and  the  youngest,  humblest  of  the  three, 
will  win  fortune  while  here  on  earth.  It  inspires  hope, 
which  is  a  great  secret  of  happiness  and  success. 

To  which  the  learned  Flaxius  annotates : 

"It  hath  escaped  the  author — as  it  hath  indeed  all  man- 
kind— that  as  the  first  syllable  of  Fortuna  is  fort  (Latin  fortis), 
so  the  true  beginning  of  luck  is  strength ;  and  if  we  are  to 
understand  by  una^  'one'  or  'only,'  we  may  even  believe  that 
the  name  means  strength  alone  or  vigorous  will,  in  accordance 
with  which  the  ancients  declared  that  'Fortune  favours  the 
bold,'  and  also  Fortuna  contentionis  studiosa  est — *  Fortune  de- 
lights in  strife.'  Therefore  she  is  ever  fleeting  in  this  world. 
Fortuna  simul  cum  moribus  immutatur^  as  Boethius  hath  it." 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  UNFINISHED  PALACE 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  VIA  DEL  PROCONSOLO 

"  '  Yes,  you  have  cheated  me,'  howled  the  devil  to  the  architect.  '  But 
I  lay  a  curse  upon  your  work.  It  shall  never  be  finished.'" — Snow  and 
Plane  he's  "  Legends  of  the  Rhine." 

ALL  great  and  ancient  buildings  which  were  never  finished 
have  a  legend  referring  to  their  incompleteness.  There 
was  one  relative  to  the  Cathedral  of  Cologne,  which  may 
be  found  in  Planche's  "  Legends  of  the  Rhine/'  and  as 
there  is  a  palazzo  non  finito  in  Florence,  I  at  once  scented 
an  old  story ;  nor  was  I  disappointed,  it  being  unearthed 
in  due  time,  and  written  out  for  me  as  follows : 

IL  PALAZZO  NON  FINITO. 

"  On  the  corner  of  the  Via  del  Proconsole  and  the  Borgo 
degli  Albizzi  there  is  an  unfinished  palace. 

"  The  great  Signore  Alessandro  Strozzi  had  a  friend  who, 
when  dying,  confided  to  him  the  care  of  his  only  son.  And 
it  was  a  troublesome  task,  for  the  youth  was  of  a  strange 
temper.  And  a  vast  property  was  left  to  the  young  man,  his 
father  imploring  him  not  to  waste  it,  and  to  live  in  friendship 
with  his  guardian. 

"  But  his  father  had  hardly  closed  his  eyes  in  death  before 
this  youth  began  to  act  wildly,  and  above  all  things  to  gamble 
terribly.  And  as  the  saying  is,  //  diavolo  ha  parte  in  ogni  giuoco 
— *  The  devil  has  a  hand  in  every  game,'  so  he  soon  brought 
himself  into  company  with  the  gamester.  Now,  as  you  have 
heard,  'tis  la  lingua  o  la  bocca  e  quella  che  fa  il  giuoco. 

"  '  Every  game,  as  it  is  sung, 

Is  won  by  mouth,  or  else  by  tongue.' 

"So  this  devil  or  imp  by  smooth  talk  succeeded  in  deceiving 

91 


92  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

the  young  heir,  and  leading  him  into  a  compact  by  which  he 
was  to  achieve  for  the  Signore  all  the  work  which  might  be 
required  of  him  for  a  hundred  years,  no  matter  what  it  was, 
and  then  the  heir  must  forfeit  his  soul. 

"For  some  time  the  young  man  was  satisfied  with  always 
winning  at  gambling.  Yes,  he  ruined  scores,  hundreds,  and 
piled  up  gold  till  he  got  sick  of  the  sight  of  cards.  You  know 
the  saying,  '  When  the  belly  is  full  the  eyes  are  tired,'  and  '  A 
crammed  dove  hates  to  fly.' 

"  So  for  a  while  he  kept  the  devil  busy,  bringing  him  a  girl 
here,  and  building  him  a  tower  there,  sending  him  to  India 
for  diamonds,  or  setting  him  at  work  to  keep  off  storm  and 
hail  from  his  vineyards,  which  the  devil  found  hard  work 
enough,  I  promise  you,  Signore,  for  then  he  had  to  fight  other 
devils  and  witches.  Then  he  put  him  at  a  harder  job.  There 
was  a  ghost  of  a  stregone  or  wizard  who  haunted  his  palazzo. 
Now  such  ghosts  are  the  hardest  to  lay. 

"'£  niente,  SignoreJ  said  the  devil.  1E  vi  passarebbe  un 
carro  di fieno.  'Tis  nothing,  my  lord;  one  could  drive  a  cart- 
load of  hay  through  it.' 1  But  the  devil  had  a  devil  of  a  time 
to  lay  that  ghost !  There  was  clanking  of  chains  and  howling, 
and  //  diavolo  scatenato  all  night  long  ere  it  was  done. 

"  '  E  finite^  SignoreJ  said  the  devil  in  the  morning.  But  he 
looked  so  worn-out  and  tired,  that  the  young  man  began  to 
think. 

"  And  he  thought,  *  This  devil  of  mine  is  not  quite  so  clever 
as  I  supposed.'  And  it  is  a  fact  that  it  was  only  a  diavolino — 
a  small  devil  who  had  thought  the  young  man  was  a  fool — 
in  which  he  was  mistaken.  A  man  may  have  un  ramo  di 
pazzo  come  Polnto  di  Fiesole — '  be  a  bit  of  a  fool,'  but  '  a  fool 
and  a  sage  together  can  beat  a  clever  man,'  as  the  saying  is, 
and  both  were  in  this  boy's  brain,  for  he  came  of  wizard  blood. 
So  he  reflected,  '  Perhaps  I  can  cheat  this  devil  after  all.'  And 
he  did  it. 

"Moreover,  this  devil  being  foolish,  had  begun  to  be  too 
officious  and  consequential.  He  was  continually  annoying  the 
Signore  by  asking  for  more  work,  even  when  he  did  not  want 
it,  as  if  to  make  a  show  of  his  immense  ability  and  insatiable 
activity.  Finally,  beginning  to  believe  in  his  own  power,  he 

1  "  Well,  yes,  I  think  you  might ; 

A  cart  of  hay  went  through  this  afternoon." 

I  believe  this  is  by  Peter  Pindar.     The  Italian  proverb  probably  sug- 
gested it. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  UNFINISHED  PALACE       93 

began  to  appear  far  too  frequently,  uncalled,  rising  up  from 
behind  chairs  abruptly  in  his  own  diabolical  form,  in  order  to 
inspire  fear ;  but  the  young  lad  had  not  been  born  in  Carnival 
to  be  afraid  of  a  mask,  as  the  saying  is,  and  all  this  only  made 
him  resolve  to  send  his  attendant  packing. 

"  '  Chi  ha  pazienza,  cugino, 

Ha  i  tordi  grassi  a  un  quattrino.' 

"  *  He  who  hath  patience,  mind  me,  cousin, 
May  buy  fat  larks  a  farthing  a  dozen.' 

"  Now,  amid  all  these  dealings,  the  young  signore  had  con- 
trived to  fall  in  love  with  the  daughter  of  his  guardian, 
Alessandro  Strozzi,  and  also  to  win  her  affections;  but  he 
observed  one  day  when  he  went  to  see  her,  having  the  diavo- 
lino  invisible  by  his  side,  the  attendant  spirit  suddenly  jibbed 
or  balked,  like  a  horse  which  stops  before  the  door,  and  re- 
fused to  go  farther.  For  there  was  a  Madonna  painted  on 
the  outside,  and  the  devil  said : 

"  '  I  see  a  virgin  form  divine, 

And  virgins  are  not  in  my  line  ; 

I'm  not  especially  devout : 

Go  thou  within — I'll  wait  without ! ' 

"And  the  young  man  observing  that  his  devil  was  devilishly 
afraid  of  holy  water,  made  a  note  of  it  for  future  use.  And 
having  asked  the  Signore  Alessandro  Strozzi  for  the  hand  of 
his  daughter,  the  great  lord  consented,  but  made  it  a  condition 
that  the  youth  should  build  for  his  bride  a  palace  on  the  corner 
of  the  Via  del  Proconsolo  and  the  Borgo  degli  Albizzi,  and  it 
must  be  ready  within  a  year.  This  he  said  because  in  his 
heart  he  did  not  like  the  match,  yet  for  his  daughter's  love  he 
put  this  form  upon  it,  and  he  hoped  that  ere  the  time  would 
be  out  something  might  happen  to  prevent  the  marriage. 
In  fin  che  vj£  fiato  v^  speranza — while  there  is  breath,  Signore, 
there  is  hope. 

"Now  the  young  man  having  resolved  to  finish  with  his 
devil  for  good  and  all,  began  to  give  him  great  hope  in  divers 
ways.  And  one  day  he  said  to  the  imp  : 

" '  Truly  thou  hast  great  power,  but  I  have  a  mind  to  make 
a  great  final  game  with  thee.  Ognt  bel  giuoco  vuol  durar  poco 
—no  good  game  should  last  long,  and  let  us  play  this  compact 
of  ours  out.  If  thou  canst  build  for  me  a  palace  at  the  corner 
of  the  Via  del  Proconsolo  and  the  Borgo  degli  Albizzi,  and 


94  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

finish  it  in  every  detail  exactly  as  I  shall  order  it,  then  will 
I  be  thine,  and  thou  need'st  do  no  more  work  for  me.  And 
if  thou  canst  not  complete  it  to  my  taste,  then  our  compact 
will  be  all  smoke,  and  we  two  past  acquaintances.' 

"  Now  it  is  said  that  to  cook  an  egg  to  a  turn,  make  a  dog's 
bed  to  suit  him  exactly,  or  teach  a  Florentine  a  trick,  sono  trecose 
difficile. — are  three  very  difficult  things  to  do,  and  this  contract 
for  building  the  palace  on  time  with  indefinite  ornaments  made 
the  devil  shake  in  his  shoes.  However,  he  knew  that  '  Pippo 
found  out  how  to  stand  an  egg  on  its  end,' *  and  where  there's 
a  will  there's  a  way,  especially  when  you  have  *  all  hell  to  back 
you  up  ' — tutto  rinferno  a  spalleggiarvi. 

"So  he  built  and  built  away,  with  one  gang  of  devils  dis- 
guised as  workmen  by  day,  and  another,  invisible,  by  night, 
and  everybody  was  amazed  to  see  how  the  palace  rose  like 
weeds  after  a  rain  ;  for,  as  the  saying  is,  mala  herba  presto  cresce 
— ' ill  weeds  grow  apace,'  and  this  had  the  devil  to  water  it. 

"  Till  at  last  one  day,  when  the  six  months  were  nearly  up, 
the  imp  said  to  the  master : 

"'  Ebbene,  Signore,  it  is  getting  to  the  time  for  you  to  tell 
me  how  you  would  like  to  have  the  palace  decorated.  Thus 
far  everything  has  been  done  exactly  as  you  directed.' 

"  '  Ah  yes,  I  see — all  done  but  the  finishing.  Well,  it  may 
be  a  little  hard,  but  I  promise  you,  on  the  word  of  a  gentleman 
(tra  galanf  uomini  unaparola  e  un  instrumento],  that  I  will  not 
ask  you  to  do  anything  which  cannot  be  executed  even  by  the 
artists  of  this  city.' 

"Now  the  devil  was  delighted  to  hear  this  (for  he  was 
afraid  he  might  be  called  on  to  work  miracles  unheard  of), 
and  so  replied  : 

"  '  Top  !  what  man  has  done  the  devil  can  do.  I'll  risk  the 
trick  if  you  swear  that  men  can  work  it.' 

"  '  I  swear  ! ' 

'" And  what  is  the  finish?' 

" '  Oh,  very  easy.  My  wife  who  is  to  be  is  of  a  very  pious 
turn,  and  I  want  to  please  her.  Firstly,  all  the  work  must  be 
equal  in  execution  to  the  best  by  the  greatest  masters — paint- 
ing, sculpture,  and  gilding.' 

1  Rizzar  fnovo  di  Pippo  sit  un  piano.  "  To  do  a  difficult  thing,  or 
achieve  it  by  tact  and  skill."  This  hints  at  the  egg  of  Columbus.  But 
Columbus  set  the  egg  upright  by  breaking  its  end,  which  was  not  a  fair 
game.  Any  egg  can  be  set  on  end  on  a  marble  table  (I  have  done  it), 
by  patient  balancing,  without  breaking. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  UNFINISHED  PALACE       95 

.     "'  Agreed.' 

"'Secondly,  the  subjects.  Over  the  front  door — bisogna 
mettermi  Gesu  Cristo  onnipotente  unitamente  a  Maria  e  il  suo 
divin  figlio,  Padre,  Figlio  e  Spirito  Santo—  that  is,  the  Holy 
Family  and  Trinity,  the  Virgin  and  Child.' 

'"Wha — wha — what's  that?'  stammered  the  devil,  aghast. 
'  It  isn't  fair  play — not  according  to  the  game.' 

"'On  every  door,'  continued  the  young  man,  raising  his 
voice,  and  looking  severely  at  the  devil,  *  the  same  subject  is 
to  be  repeated  on  a  thick  gold  ground,  all  the  ultramarine  to 
be  of  the  very  best  quality,  washed  in  holy  water.' 

11  *  Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! '  wailed  the  devil. 

" '  The  roof  is  to  be  covered  with  the  images  of  saints  as 
pinnacles,  and,  by  the  way,  wherever  you  have  a  blank  space, 
outside  on  the  walls  or  inside,  including  ceilings — just  cover  it 
with  the  same  subjects — the  Temptation  of  Saint  Antony  or 
Saint ' 

"  '  Oh,  go  to  the  devil  with  your  saints  and  gold  grounds  ! ' 
roared  the  imp.  '  Truly  I  have  lost  this  game ;  fishing  with 
a  golden  hook  is  a  fool's  business.  There  is  the  compact ! ' 

"  It  was  night — deep,  dark  night — there  came  a  blinding 
flash  of  light — an  awful  crash  of  indescribable  unearthly  sound, 
like  a  thunder-voice.  The  imp,  taking  the  form  of  a  dvetta  or 
small  owl,  vanished  through  the  window  in  the  storm-wind 
and  rain,  wailing,  lMaifinito  ! ' 

"  And  it  is  said  that  to  this  day  the  small  owl  still  perches 
by  night  on  the  roof  of  the  palace,  wailing  wearily — 'Un- 
finished !  unfinished  ! ' " 

In  no  country  in  the  world  has  unscrupulous  vigorous 
intellect  been  so  admired  as  in  Italy,  the  land  of  the 
Borgias  and  Machiavellis.  In  the  rest  of  Europe  man 
finds  a  master  in  the  devil ;  in  Italy  he  aims  at  becoming 
the  devil's  master.  This  is  developed  boldly  in  the 
legend  of  "  Intialo,"  to  which  I  have  devoted  another 
chapter,  and  it  appears  as  markedly  in  this.  The  idea  of 
having  an  attendant  demon,  whom  the  master,  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  superior  intellect,  despises,  knowing  that  he 
will  crush  him  when  he  will,  is  not  to  be  found,  I  believe, 
in  a  single  German,  French,  or  any  other  legend  not 
Italian. 


96  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

If  this  be  so,  it  is  a  conception  well  deserving  study,  as 
illustrating  the  subtle  and  powerful  Italian  intellect  as  it 
was  first  analysed  by  Macaulay,  and  is  now  popularly 
understood  by  such  writers  as  Scaife.1  It  is  indeed  a 
most  unholy  and  unchristian  conception,  since  it  is  quite 
at  war  with  the  orthodox  theology  of  the  Church,  as  of 
Calvin  and  Luther,  which  makes  the  devil  the  grand 
master  of  mankind,  and  irresistible  except  where  man  is 
saved  by  a  special  miracle  or  grace. 

And  it  may  also  be  noted  from  such  traditions  that 
folk-lore,  when  it  shall  have  risen  to  a  sense  of  its  true 
dignity  and  power,  will  not  limit  itself  to  collecting 
variants  of  fairy  tales  to  prove  the  routes  of  races  over 
the  earth,  but  rise  to  illustrating  the  characteristic,  and 
even  the  aesthetic,  developments  of  different  stocks.  That 
we  are  now  laying  the  basis  for  this  is  evident. 

Though  the  devil  dared  not  depict  lives  and  legends  of 
the  saints  upon  the  palace,  he  did  not  neglect  to  put  his 
own  ugly  likeness  there,  repeated  above  the  four  front 
windows  in  a  perfectly  appalling  Gothic  style,  which  con- 
trasts oddly  with  the  later  and  severe  character  of  the 
stately  building.  These  faces  are  fiendish  enough  to 
have  suggested  the  story. 

It  may  here  be  mentioned  that  it  was  in  the  middle  of 
the  Borgo  degli  Albizzi,  near  this  palace,  that  that  inde- 
fatigable corpse-reviver  and  worker  of  miracles,  San 
Zenobio,  raised  from  the  dead  the  child  of  a  noble  and 
rich  French  lady.  "Then  in  that  place  there  was  put 
a  pillar  of  white  marble  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  as 
a  token  of  a  great  miracle." 

"  Hcec  fabula  docet — this  fable  teaches,"  adds  Flaxius  the 
immortal,  "  that  there  was  never  yet  anything  left  incomplete 
by  neglect  or  incapacity  or  poverty,  be  it  in  buildings  or  in 
that  higher  structure,  man  himself,  but  what  it  was  attributed 

1  "Florentine   Life  during  the   Renaissance,"  by  Walter   B.   Scaife. 
Baltimore,  1893. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  UNFINISHED  PALACE       97 

to  the  devil.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  devil,  what  fine  fellows, 
what  charming  creatures,  we  would  all  have  been  to  be  sure  ! 
The  devil  alone  inspires  us  to  sin  ;  we  would  never  have 
dreamed  of  it.  Whence  I  conclude  that  the  devil  is  dearer  to 
man,  and  a  greater  benefactor,  than  all  the  saints  and  several 
deities  thrown  in,  because  he  serves  as  a  scudaway  scapegoat, 
and  excellent  excuse  for  the  sins  of  all  the  orthodox  of  all 
time.  How  horrible  it  would  be  were  we  all  made  unto 
ourselves  distinctly  responsible  for  our  sins — our  unfinished 
palaces,  our  good  resolutions  broken ;  and  how  very  pleasant 
it  is  that  it  is  all  the  devil's  fault,  and  not  our  own  !  Oh  my 
friends,  did  I  believe  as  ye  do — which  I  don't — I  would  long 
ago  have  raised  altars  and  churches  to  the  devil,  wherein  I 
would  praise  him  daily  as  the  one  who  in  spirit  and  in  truth 
takes  upon  himself  the  sins  of  all  the  world,  bearing  the  burden 
of  our  iniquities.  For  saying  which  thing,  but  in  other  words, 
the  best  Christian  of  his  age,  Bishop  Agobard,  was  hunted 
down  well-nigh  to  death.  Thus  endeth  a  great  lesson  ! " 


THE  DEVIL   OF  THE  MERC  A  TO   VECCHIO 

"  Have  I  not  the  magic  wand,  by  means  of  which,  having  first  invoked 
the  spirit  Odeken,  one  can  enter  the  elfin  castle  ?  Is  not  this  a  fine  trot 
on  the  devil's  crupper  ?  Here  it  is — one  of  the  palaces  erected  by  rivals  of 
the  Romans.  Let  us  enter,  for  I  hold  a  hand  of  glory  to  which  all  doors 
open.  Let  us  enter,  hie  et  nunc,  the  palace  fair.  .  .  .  Here  it  was  once  on 
a  Sabato  of  the  Carnival  that  there  entered  four  graceful  youths  of  noble 
air." — Arlecchino  alle  Nozze  di  Cana. 

I  VERY  naturally  made  inquiry  as  to  whether  there  was 
not  a  legend  of  the  celebrated  bronze  devil  made  by 
Giovanni  di  Bologna,  which  remained  until  lately  in  the 
Mercato  Vecchio,  and  I  obtained  the  following,  which  is, 
from  intrinsic  evidence,  extremely  curious  and  ancient. 

IL   DlAVOLO   ALLA    CAVOLAIA. 

"  On  the  corner  of  the  Palace  Cavolaia  there  were  anciently 
four  devils  of  iron.1  These  were  once  four  gentlemen  who, 
being  wonderfully  intimate,  had  made  a  strange  compact, 
swearing  fidelity  and  love  among  themselves  to  death,  agreeing 
also  that  if  they  married,  their  wives  and  children  and  property 
should  be  all  in  common. 

"When  such  vows  and  oaths  are  uttered,  the  saints  may 
pass  them  by,  but  the  devils  hear  them ;  they  hear  them  in 
hell,  and  they  laugh  and  cry,  '  These  are  men  who  will  some 
day  be  like  us,  and  here  for  ever  ! '  Such  sin  as  that  is  like  a 
root  which,  once  planted,  may  be  let  alone — the  longer  it  is  in 
the  ground,  the  more  it  grows.  Terra  non  avvilisce  oro  — 
earth  does  not  spoil  gold,  but  even  virtue,  like  friendship, 
may  grow  into  a  great  vice  when  it  grows  too  much. 

"  As  it  happened  in  this  case.  Well,  the  four  friends  were 
invited  to  a  great  festa  in  that  fatal  palace  of  the  Cavolaia,  and 
they  all  went.  And  they  danced  and  diverted  themselves 

1  The  diavolino  of  Gian  di  Bologna  is  of  bronze,  but  popular  tradition 
makes  light  of  accuracy. 

98 


THE  DEVIL  OF  THE  MERCATO  VECCHIO         99 

with  great  and  beautiful  ladies  in  splendour  and  luxury.  As 
the  four  were  all  singularly  handsome  and  greatly  admired, 
the  ladies  came  con  grandi  tueletti — in  their  best  array,  sfarzose 
per  essere  corteggiate — making  themselves  magnificent  to  be 
courted  by  these  gentlemen,  and  so  they  looked  at  one  another 
with  jealous  eyes,  and  indeed  many  a  girl  there  would  have 
gladly  been  wife  to  them  all,  or  wished  that  the  four  were  one, 
while  the  married  dames  wished  that  they  could/are  i  sposamenti 
— be  loved  by  one  or  all.  People  were  wicked  in  those  days  ! 

"  But  what  was  their  surprise — and  a  fearful  surprise  it  was — 
when,  after  all  their  gaiety,  they  heard  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning  the  sound  of  a  bell  which  they  had  never  heard 
before,  and  then  divine  music  and  singing,  and  there  entered 
a  lady  of  such  superhuman  beauty  as  held  them  enchanted 
and  speechless.  Now  it  was  known  that,  by  the  strict  rules  of 
that  palace,  the  festa  must  soon  close,  and  there  was  only 
time  for  one  more  dance,  and  it  was  sworn  among  these 
friends  that  every  lady  who  danced  with  one  of  them,  must 
dance  with  all  in  succession.  Truly  they  now  repented  of 
their  oath,  for  she  was  so  beautiful. 

"  But  the  lady  advancing,  pointed  out  one  of  the  four,  and 
said,  '  I  will  dance  with  him  alone.' 

"  The  young  signore  would  have  refused,  but  he  felt  him- 
self obliged,  despite  himself,  to  obey  her,  and  when  they  had 
danced,  she  suddenly  disappeared,  leaving  all  amazed. 

"  And  when  they  had  recovered  from  the  spell  which  had 
been  upon  them,  they  said  that  as  she  had  come  in  with  the 
dawn  and  vanished  with  the  day,  it  must  have  been  the 
Beautiful  Alba,  the  enchanting  queen  of  the  fairies. 

"  The  festa  lasted  for  three  days,  and  every  night  at  the 
same  hour  the  beautiful  Alba  reappeared,  enchanting  all  so 
wonderfully,  that  even  the  ladies  forgot  their  jealousy,  and 
were  as  much  fascinated  by  her  as  were  the  men. 

"Now  of  the  four  friends,  three  sternly  reproached  the 
other  for  breaking  his  oath,  they  being  themselves  madly  in 
love ;  but  he  replied,  and  truly,  that  he  had  been  compelled 
by  some  power  which  he  could  not  resist  to  obey  her.  But 
that,  as  a  man  of  honour,  so  far  as  he  could,  he  would  comply 
with  the  common  oath  which  bound  them. 

"Then  they  declared  that  he  should  ask  her  if  she  loved 
him,  and  if  she  assented,  that  he  should  inform  her  of  their 
oath,  and  that  she  must  share  her  love  with  all  or  none — 
altrimenti  non  avrebbe  mai potuta  sposarla. 


loo  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"Which  he  did  in  good  faith,  and  she  answered,  'Hadst 
thou  loved  me  sincerely  and  fully,  thou  wouldst  have  broken 
that  vile  oath ;  and  yet  it  is  creditable  to  thee  that,  as  a  man 
of  honour,  thou  wilt  not  break  thy  word.  Therefore  thou 
shalt  be  mine,  but  not  till  after  a  long  and  bitter  punishment. 
Now  I  ask  thy  friends  and  thee,  if  to  be  mine  they  are  willing 
to  take  the  form  of  demons  and  bear  it  openly  before  all  men.1 

"  And  when  he  proposed  it  to  his  friends,  he  found  them  so 
madly  in  love  with  the  lady  that  they,  thinking  she  meant  some 
disguise,  declared  that  to  be  hers  they  would  willingly  wear 
any  form,  however  terrible. 

"And  the  fair  Alba,  having  heard  them,  said,  'Yes,  ye 
shall  indeed  be  mine;  more  than  that  I  do  not  promise. 
Now  meet  me  to-morrow  at  the  Canto  dei  Diavoli — at  the 
Devil's  Corner ! ' 

"  And  they  gazed  at  her  astonished,  never  having  heard  of 
such  a  place.  But  she  replied,  '  Go  into  the  street  and  your 
feet  shall  guide  you,  and  truly  it  will  be  a  great  surprise/ 

"  And  they  laughed  among  themselves,  saying,  '  The  surprise 
will  be  that  she  will  consent  to  become  a  wife  to  us  all.' 

"  But  when  they  came  to  the  corner,  in  the  night,  what  was 
their  amazement  to  see  on  it  four  figures  of  devils  indeed,  and 
Alba,  who  said,  '  Now  ye  are  indeed  mine,  but  as  for  my  being 
yours,  that  is  another  matter.' 

"Then  touching  each  one,  she  also  touched  a  devil,  and 
said,  '  This  is  thy  form ;  enter  into  it.  Three  of  ye  shall  ever 
remain  as  such.  As  for  this  fourth  youth,  he  shall  be  with  ye 
for  a  year,  and  then,  set  free,  shall  live  with  me  in  human 
form.  And  from  midnight  till  three  in  the  morning  ye  also 
may  be  as  ye  were,  and  go  to  the  Palazzo  Cavolaia,  and  dance 
and  be  merry  with  the  rest,  but  through  the  day  become 
devils  again/ 

"And  so  it  came  to  pass.  After  a  year  the  image  of  the 
chosen  lover  disappeared;  and  then  one  of  the  three  was 
stolen,  and  then  another,  till  only  one  remained." 

There  is  some  confusion  in  the  conclusion  of  this  story, 
which  I  have  sought  to  correct.  The  exact  words  are, 
"  For  many  years  all  four  remained,  till  one  was  stolen 
away,  and  that  was  the  image  of  the  young  man  who 
pleased  the  beautiful  Alba,  who  thus  relieved  him  of  the 
spell."  But  as  there  has  been  always  only  one  devil  on 


THE  DEVIL  OF  THE  MERCATO  VECCHIO        101 

the  corner,  I  cannot  otherwise  reconcile  the  story  with 
the  fact. 

I  have  said  that  this  tale  is  aVictent  from  in'irlrisic 
evidence.  Such  extravagant  alliances  of  friendship; as  js 
here  described  were  actually  common  in- the  'Middle -Ages- 
they  existed  in  England  even  till  the  time  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  In  "  Shakespeare  and  his  Friends,"  or  in  the 
"  Youth  of  Shakespeare" — I  forget  which — two  young  men 
are  represented  as  fighting  a  duel  because  each  declared 
that  he  loved  the  other  most.  There  was  no  insane  folly 
of  sentiment  which  was  not  developed  in  those  days. 
But  this  is  so  foreign  to  modern  ideas,  that  I  think  it 
could  only  have  existed  in  tradition  to  these  our  times. 

There  were  also  during  the  Middle  Ages  strange  here- 
tical sects,  among  whom  such  communism  existed,  like 
the  polyandria  of  the  ancient  Hindoos.  There  may  be 
a  trace  of  it  in  this  story. 

Alba,  Albina,  or  Bellaria,  appear  in  several  Tuscan 
traditions.  They  are  forms  of  the  Etruscan  Alpan,  the 
fairy  of  the  Dawn,  a  sub-form  of  Venus,  the  spirit  of 
Light  and  Flowers,  described  in  my  work  on  "  Etruscan 
Roman  Traditions."  It  may  be  remarked  as  an  ingenious 
touch  in  the  tale,  that  she  always  appears  at  the  first 
dawn,  or  at  three  o'clock,  and  vanishes  with  broad  day. 
This  distinguishes  her  from  the  witches  and  evil  spirits, 
who  always  come  at  midnight  and  vanish  at  three  o'clock. 

The  readiness  with  which  the  young  men  consented  to 
assume  the  forms  of  demons  is  easily  explained.  They 
understood  that  it  meant  only  a  disguise,  and  it  was  very 
common  in  the  Middle  Ages  for  lovers  to  wear  something 
strange  in  honour  of  their  mistresses.  The  dress  of  a 
devil  would  only  seem  a  joke  to  the  habitue's  of  the 
Cavolaia.  It  may  be  also  borne  in  mind  that  in  other 
tales  of  Florence  it  is  distinctly  stated  that  spirits  con- 
fined in  statues,  columns,  et  cetera,  only  inhabit  them  "as 
bees  live  in  hives."  They  appear  to  sleep  in  them  by 


102  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

day,  and  come  out  at  night.  So  in  India  the  saint  or 
demon  only  comes : into  the  relic  or  image  from  time  to 
time;  'or  when  invoked. 

:  4fto;r  !' {ia-1  wiiUen  the  foregoing,  I  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  receive  from  Maddalena  yet  another  legend  of  the 
bronze  imp  of  Giovanni  di  Bologna,  which  tale  she  had 
unearthed  in  the  .  purlieus  of  the  Mercato  Vecchio.  I 
have  often  met  her  when  thus  employed,  always  in  the 
old  part  of  the  town,  amid  towering  old  buildings  bearing 
shields  of  the  Middle  Ages,  or  in  dusky  vicoli  and  chiassi, 
and  when  asked  what  she  was  doing,  'twas  ever  the  same 
reply,  "Ma,  Signore  Carlo,  there's  an  old  woman — or 
somebody — lives  here  who  knows  a  story."  And  then  I 
knew  that  there  was  going  to  be  a  long  colloquy  in 
dialect  which  would  appal  any  one  who  only  knew  choice 
Italian,  the  end  of  which  would  be  the  recovery,  perhaps 
from  half-a-dozen  vecchie,  of  a  legend  like  the  following, 
of  which  I  would  premise  that  it  was  not  translated  by 
me,  but  by  Miss  Roma  Lister,  who  knew  Maddalena, 
having  taken  lessons  from  her  in  the  sublime  art  of 
battezare  le  carte,  or  telling  fortunes  by  cards,  and  other 
branches  of  the  black  art.  And  having  received  the 
manuscript,  which  was  unusually  illegible  and  trouble- 
some, I  asked  Miss  Lister  to  kindly  transcribe  it,  but 
with  great  kindness  she  translated  the  whole,  only  begging 
me  to  mention  that  it  is  given  with  the  most  scrupulous 
accuracy,  word  for  word,  from  the  original,  so  far  as  the 
difference  of  language  permitted. 

IL    DlAVOLINO   DEL   CANTO   DE'    DlAVOLI. 

The  Imp  of  the  Devils  Corner  and  the  Pious  Fairy. 

"  There  was  once  a  pious  fairy  who  employed  all  her  time  in 
going  about  the  streets  of  Florence  in  the  shape  of  a  woman, 
preaching  moral  sermons  for  the  good  of  her  hearers,  and  sing- 
ing so  sweetly  that  all  who  heard  her  voice  fell  in  love  with  her. 
Even  the  women  forgot  to  be  jealous,  so  charming  was  her 


THE  DEVIL  OF  THE  MERCATO  VECCHIO        103 

voice,  and  darnes  and  damsels  followed  her  about,  trying  to 
learn  her  manner  of  singing. 

"  Now  the  fairy  had  converted  so  many  folk  from  their  evil 
ways,  that  a  certain  devil  or  imp — who  also  had  much  busi- 
ness in  Florence  about  that  time — became  jealous  of  the 
intruder,  and  swore  to  avenge  himself;  but  it  appears  that 
there  was  as  much  love  as  hate  in  the  fiend's  mind,  for  the 
fairy's  beautiful  voice  had  worked  its  charm  even  when  the 
hearer  was  a  devil.  Now,  besides  being  an  imp  of  superior 
intelligence,  he  was  also  an  accomplished  ventriloquist  (or  one 
who  could  imitate  strange  voices  as  if  sounding  afar  or  in  any 
place) ;  so  one  day  while  the  pious  fairy  in  the  form  of  a 
beautiful  maiden  held  forth  to  an  admiring  audience,  two 
voices  were  heard  in  the  street,  one  here,  another  there,  and 
the  first  sang : 

" '  Senti  o  bella  una  parola, 

Te  la  dico  a  le  sola, 

Qui  nessun  ci  puo'l  sentire 

Una  cosa  ti  vuo  dire  ; 

Se  la  senti  la  stemperona, 

L'a  un  voce  da  buffona 

1  iene  in  mano  la  corona.1 

Per  fare  credere  a  questo  o  quella, 

Che  I'e  sempre  una  verginella.' 

"  '  Hear,  O  lovely  maid,  a  word, 
Only  to  thyself  I'd  bear  it, 
For  it  must  not  be  o'erheard, 
Least  of  all  should  the  preacher  hear  it. 
'Tis  that,  while  seeming  pious,  she, 
Holding  in  hand  a  rosary, 
Her  talk  is  all  hypocrisy, 
To  make  believe  to  simple  ears, 
That  still  the  maiden  wreath  she  wears.' 

"  Then  another  voice  answered : 

"  *  La  risposta  ti  vuo  dare, 
Senza  farti  aspettare ; 
Ora  di  un  bell'  afiare, 
Te  la  voglio  raccontare, 
Quella  donna  che  sta  a  cantare, 
E  una  Strega  di  queste  contrade, 
Che  va  da  questo  e  quello, 
A  cantarle  indovinello, 
A  chi  racconta  :  Voi  siete 
Buona  donna  aflfezionata. 
Al  vostro  marito,  ma  non  sapete, 
Cie'  di  voi  un  'altra  appasionata.' 

1  This  is  supposed  to  be  addressed  to  another,  not  to  the  fairy. 


104  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  '  Friends,  you'll  not  have  long  to  wait 
For  what  I'm  going  to  relate ; 
And  it  is  a  pretty  story 
Which  I  am  going  to  lay  before  ye. 
That  dame  who  singing  there  you  see 
Is  a  witch  of  this  our  Tuscany, 
Who  up  and  down  the  city  flies, 
Deceiving  people  with  her  lies, 
Saying  to  one  :  The  truth  to  tell, 
I  know  you  love  your  husband  well ; 
But  you  will  find,  on  close  inspection, 
Another  has  his  fond  affection. ' 

"  In  short,  the  imp,  by  changing  his  voice  artfully,  and  sing- 
ing his  ribald  songs  everywhere,  managed  in  the  end  to 
persuade  people  that  the  fairy  was  no  better  than  she  should 
be,  and  a  common  mischief-maker  and  disturber  of  domestic 
peace.  So  the  husbands,  becoming  jealous,  began  to  quarrel 
with  their  wives,  and  then  to  swear  at  the  witch  who  led  them 
astray  or  put  false  suspicion  into  their  minds. 

"  But  it  happened  that  the  fairy  was  in  high  favour  with  a 
great  saint,  and  going  to  him,  she  told  all  her  troubles  and  the 
wicked  things  which  were  said  of  her,  and  besought  him  to 
free  her  good  name  from  the  slanders  which  the  imp  of  dark- 
ness had  spread  abroad  (faveva  chalugnato). 

"Then  the  saint,  very  angry,  changed  the  devil  into  a  bronze 
figure  (mascherone^  an  architectural  ornament),  but  first  com- 
pelled him  to  go  about  to  all  who  had  been  influenced  by  his 
slanders,  and  undo  the  mischief  which  he  had  made,  and  finally 
to  make  a  full  confession  in  public  of  everything,  including  his 
designs  on  the  beautiful  fairy,  and  how  he  hoped  by  compro- 
mising her  to  lead  her  to  share  his  fate. 

"  Truly  the  imp  cut  but  a  sorry  figure  when  compelled  to 
thus  stand  up  in  the  Old  Market  place  at  the  corner  of  the 
Palazzo  Cavolaia  before  a  vast  multitude  and  avow  all  his  dirty 
little  tricks ;  but  he  contrived  withal  to  so  artfully  represent  his 
passionate  love  for  the  fairy,  and  to  turn  all  his  sins  to  that 
account,  that  many  had  compassion  on  him,  so  that  indeed 
among  the  people,  in  time,  no  one  ever  spoke  ill  of  the  doppio 
povero  diavolo,  or  doubly  poor  devil,  for  they  said  he  was  to 
be  pitied  since  he  had  no  love  on  earth  and  was  shut  out  of 
heaven. 

"  Nor  did  he  quite  lose  his  power,  for  it  was  said  that  after 
he  had  been  confined  in  the  bronze  image,  if  any  one  spoke 
ill  of  him  or  said,  *  This  is  a  devil,  and  as  a  devil  he  can  never 
enter  Paradise,'  then  the  imp  would  persecute  that  man  with 


THE  DEVIL  OF  THE  MERCATO  VECCHIO        105 

strange  voices  and  sounds  until  such  time  as  the  offender 
should  betake  himself  to  the  Palazzo  della  Cavolaia,  and  there, 
standing  before  the  bronze  image,  should  ask  his  pardon. 

"And  if  it  pleased  the  Diavolino,  he  forgave  them,  and 
they  had  peace ;  but  if  it  did  not,  they  were  pursued  by  the 
double  mocking  voice  which  made  dialogue  or  sang  duets 
over  all  their  sins  and  follies  and  disgraces.  And  whether 
they  stayed  at  home  or  went  abroad,  the  voices  were  ever  about 
them,  crying  aloud  or.  tittering  and  whispering  or  hissing,  so 
that  they  had  no  rest  by  day  or  night ;  and  this  is  what  befell 
all  who  spoke  ill  of  the  Diavolino  del  Canto  del  Diavoli." 

The  saint  mentioned  in  this  story  was  certainly  Pietro 
Martire  or  Peter  the  Martyrer,  better  deserving  the  name 
of  murderer,  who,  preaching  at  the  very  corner  where 
the  bronze  imp  was  afterwards  placed,  declared  that  he 
beheld  the  devil,  and  promptly  exorcised  him.  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  image  was  placed  there  to 
commemorate  this  probably  "  pious  fraud." 

It  is  only  since  I  wrote  all  this  that  I  learned  that 
there  were  formerly  two  of  these  devils,  one  having  been 
stolen  not  many  years  ago.  This  verifies  to  some  extent 
the  consistency  of  the  author  of  the  legend,  "  The  Devil 
of  the  Mercato  Vecchio,"  who  says  there  were  four. 

There  is  a  very  amusing  and  curious  trait  of  character 
manifested  in  the  conclusion  of  this  story  which  might 
escape  the  reader's  attention  were  it  not  indicated.  It 
is  the  vindication  of  the  "  puir  deil,"  and  the  very  evident 
desire  to  prove  that  he  was  led  astray  by  love,  and  that 
even  the  higher  spirit  could  not  take  away  all  his  power. 
Here  I  recognise  beyond  all  question  the  witch,  the 
fortune-teller  and  sorceress,  who  prefers  Cain  to  Abel, 
and  sings  invocations  to  the  former,  and  to  Diana  as  the 
dark  queen  of  the  Strege,  and  always  takes  sides  with 
the  heretic  and  sinner  and  magian  and  goblin.  It  is  the 
last  working  of  the  true  spirit  of  ancient  heathenism,  for 
the  fortune-tellers,  and  especially  those  of  the  mountains, 
all  come  of  families  who  have  been  regarded  as  enemies 


106  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

by  the  Church  during  all  the  Middle  Ages,  and  who  are 
probably  real  and  direct  descendants  of  Canidia  and  her 
contemporaries,  for  where  this  thing  is  in  a  family  it 
never  dies  out.  I  have  a  great  many  traditions  in  which 
the  hand  of  the  heathen  witch  and  the  worship  of  "  him 
who  has  been  wronged  "  and  banished  to  darkness,  is  as 
evident  as  it  is  here. 

"Which  indeed  seems  to  show,"  comments  the  learned 
Flaxius,  "that  if  the  devil  is  never  quite  so  black  as  he  is 
painted,  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  so  far  from  being  of  a 
pure  white— as  the  jolly  George  Sand  boys,  such  as  Heine  and 
Co.,  thought — that  it  is  hard  to  make  him  out  of  any  lighter 
hue  than  mud  and  verdigris  mixed.  In  medio  tutissimus  ibis. 
Tis  also  to  be  especially  noted,  that  in  this  legend — as  in 
Shelley's  poem — the  Devil  appears  as  a  meddling  wretch 
who  is  interested  in  small  things,  and  above  all,  as  given 
to  gossip : 

"  The  Devil  sat  down  in  London  town 
Before  earth's  morning  ray, 
With  a  favourite  imp  he  began  to  chat, 
On  religion,  and  scandal,  and  this  and  that, 
Until  the  dawn  of  day." 


SEEING    THAT  ALL    WAS  RIGHT 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  PORTA  A  SAN  NICOL6 

"  God  keep  us  from  the  devil's  lackies, 
Who  are  the  aggravating  jackies, 
Who  to  the  letter  execute 
An  order  and  exactly  do't, 
Or  else,  with  fancy  free  and  bold, 
Do  twice  as  much  as  they  are  told, 
And  when  reproved,  cry  bravely,  '  Oh  ! 
I  thought  you'd  like  it  so  and  so.' 
From  all  such,  wheresoe'er  they  be, 
Libera  nos,  Dotnine  I " 

THE  Porta  a  San  Nicolo  in  Florence  is,  among  other 
legends,  associated  with  a  jest  played  by  the  famous  Bar- 
lacchia  on  a  friend,  the  story  of  which  runs  as  follows : 

"  It  is  an  old  saying  that  la  porta  di  dietro  t  quella  che  ruba 
la  casa  (it  is  the  back  gate  which  robs  a  house),  and  it  was 
going  back  to  the  gate  of  San  Nicolo  which  robbed  a  man  of 
all  his  patience.  This  man  had  gone  with  Barlacchia  the 
jester  from  Florence  to  Val  d'Arno,  and  on  returning  they 
had  stopped  in  the  plain  of  Ripolo,  where  the  friend  was 
obliged  to  delay  for  a  time,  while  Barlacchia  went  on.  Now 
it  was  so  late  that  although  Barlacchia  was  certain  to  reach 
the  Porto  a  San  Nicolo  in  time  to  enter,  it  was  doubtful 
whether  the  one  who  came  later  could  do  so  unless  a  word 
should  be  spoken  in  advance  to  the  guard,  who  for  friendship 
or  a  fee  would  sit  up  and  let  the  late-comer  in.  Therefore  the 
friend  said  to  the  jester,  '  Di  gratia  facesse  sostenere  la  porta' — 
'See  that  the  gate  is  all  right,'  or  that  all  is  right  at  the  bridge 
— meaning,  of  course,  that  he  should  make  it  right  with  the 
guardian  to  let  him  in. 

"  And  when  Barlacchia  came  to  the  gate,  he  indeed  asked 
the  officer  in  charge  se  questi  si  sostengo — whether  it  was  all 
right,  and  if  it  stood  firmly,  and  was  in  no  danger  of  falling, 
affirming  that  he  was  making  special  inquiry  at  request  of  a 

107 


io8  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

friend  who  was  commissioner  of  the  city  gates  and  bridges, 
and  obtained  a  paper  certifying  that  the  gate  was  in  excellent 
condition,  after  which  he  went  home. 

"  Trotting  along  on  his  mule  came  the  friend,  who,  believing 
that  Barlacchia  had  made  it  ail  right  with  the  guard,  had  not 
hurried.  But  he  found  it  was  all  wrong,  and  that  'a  great 
mistake  had  been  made  somewhere/  as  the  eel  said  when  he 
was  thrown  into  boiling  hot  oil  instead  of  cold  water.  For  he 
found  the  gate  locked  and  nobody  to  let  him  in,  so  that  in  a 
great  rage  he  was  obliged  to  go  back  to  an  inn  which  was  dis- 
tinguished for  nothing  but  its  badness,  dove  stette  con  gran  disagio 
quella  notte  (where  he  passed  the  night  in  great  discomfort). 

"And  when  morning  came,  he  passed  the  gate,  but  stopped 
and  asked  whether  Barlacchia  had  been  there  the  night 
before.  To  which  the  guard  answered,  'Yes,'  and  that  he 
had  been  very  particular  in  his  inquiries  as  to  whether  the 
doors  were  firm  on  their  hinges,  and  if  the  foundations  were 
secure ;  on  hearing  which,  the  man  saw  that  he  had  been  sold,1 
and  going  to  the  Piazza  Signoria,  and  meeting  Barlacchia, 
gli  disse  rilevata  mllania^  let  him  have  abuse  in  bold  relief 
and  large  proportion,  saying  that  it  was  infamous  to  snipe  his 
equal  in  all  things  and  better  in  most,  in  such  a  low-flung 
manner,  unbecoming  a  half-grown  chimney-sweep,  and  that  if 
he  did  not  respect  himself  too  much  to  use  improper  or  strong 
language,  he  would  say  that  Barlacchia  was  a  dastardly  black- 
guard and  a  son  of  a  priest.  To  which  Barlacchia  remon- 
strated that  he  had  performed  to  perfection  exactly  what  he 
had  promised  to  do,  yea,  a  punto>  to  the  very  letter. 

"  Now  by  this  time  half  Florence  had  assembled,  and  being 
delighted  beyond  all  measure  at  this  racy  dispute,  insisted  on 
forming  a  street-court  and  settling  the  question  alia  fresca. 
And  when  the  evidence  was  taken,  and  all  the  facts,  which 
long  in  darkness  lay,  were  brought  full  clearly  to  the  light  of 
day,  there  was  such  a  roaring  of  laughter  and  clapping  of 
hands  that  you  would  have  sworn  the  Guelfs  and  Ghibellines 
had  got  at  it  again  full  swing.  But  the  verdict  was  that 
Barlacchia  was  acquitted  without  a  stain  on  his  character. 

"  Htecfabula  docet"  comments  Flaxius,  "  that  there  be  others 
besides  Tyll  Eulenspiegel  who  make  mischief  by  fulfilling 
laws  too  literally.  And  there  are  no  people  in  this  world  who 
contrive  to  break  the  Spirit  of  Christianity  so  much  as  those 
who  follow  it  simply  to  the  Letter." 
1  Ucellafot  caught  like  a  bird,  or,  as  they  say  on  the  Mississippi,  "sniped." 


THE  ENCHANTED  COW  OF  LA    VIA 
VACCHERECCIA 

"On  Dunmore  Heath  I  also  slewe 

A  monstrous  wild  and  cruell  beaste 
Called  the  Dun  Cow  of  Dunmore  plaine, 
Who  many  people  had  opprest." 

— Guy i  Earl  of  Warwick. 

THE  Via  Vacchereccia  is  a  very  short  street  leading  from 
the  Signoria  to  the  Via  Por  San  Maria.  Vaccherricia^ 
also  Vaccliereccia,  means  a  cow,  and  is  also  applied 
scornfully  to  a  bad  woman.  The  following  legend  was 
given  to  me  as  accounting  for  the  name  of  the  place. 
A  well-known  Vienna  beerhouse-restaurant,  Gilli  and 
Letta's,  has  contributed  much  of  late  years  to  make  this 
street  known,  and  it  was  on  its  site  that,  at  some  time  in 
"  the  fabled  past,"  the  building  stood  in  which  dwelt  the 
witch  who  figures  in  the  story. 

LA  VIA  VACCHERECCIA. 

"  There  lived  long  ago  in  the  Via  Vacchereccia  a  poor  girl, 
who  was,  however,  so  beautiful  and  graceful,  and  sweet  in  her 
manner,  that  it  seemed  to  be  a  marvel  that  she  belonged  to 
the  people,  and  still  more  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  the 
woman  who  was  believed  to  be  her  mother,  for  the  latter  was 
as  ugly  as  she  was  wicked,  brutal,  and  cruel  before  all  the 
world,  and  a  witch  in  secret,  a  creature  without  heart  or 
humanity. 

"  Nor  was  the  beautiful  Artemisia — such  being  the  name  of 
the  girl — in  reality  her  daughter,  for  the  old  woman  had  stolen 
her  from  her  parents,  who  were  noble  and  wealthy,  when  she 
was  a  babe,  and  had  brought  her  up,  hoping  that  when  grown 
she  could  make  money  out  of  her  in  some  evil  way,  and  live 

109 


i  io  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

upon  her.  But,  as  sometimes  happens,  it  seemed  as  if  some 
benevolent  power  watched  over  the  poor  child,  for  all  the  evil 
words  and  worse  example  of  the  witch  had  no  effect  on  her 
whatever. 

"Now  it  happened  that  Artemisia  in  time  attracted  the 
attention  and  love  of  a  young  gentleman,  who,  while  of  mode- 
rate estate,  was  by  no  means  rich;  and  he  had  learned  to 
know  her  through  his  mother,  an  admirable  lady,  who  had 
often  employed  Artemisia,  and  been  impressed  by  her  beauty 
and  goodness.  So  it  happened  that  the  mother  favoured  the 
son's  suit,  and  as  Artemisia  loved  the  young  man,  it  seemed 
as  if  her  sufferings  would  soon  be  at  an  end,  for  be  it  observed 
that  the  witch  treated  the  maid  at  all  times  with  extraordinary 
cruelty. 

"But  it  did  not  suit  the  views  of  the  old  woman  at  all 
that  the  girl  on  whom  she  reckoned  to  bring  in  much  money 
from  great  protectors,  and  whom  she  was  wont  to  call  the 
cow  from  whom  she  would  yet  draw  support,  should  settle 
down  into  the  wife  of  a  small  noble  of  moderate  means.  So 
she  not  only  scornfully  rejected  the  suit,  but  scolded  and  beat 
Artemisia  with  even  greater  wickedness  than  ever. 

"  But  there  are  times  when  the  gentlest  natures  (especially 
when  supported  by  good  principles  and  truly  good  blood) 
will  not  give  way  to  any  oppression,  however  cruel,  and 
Artemisia,  feeling  keenly  that  the  marriage  was  most  advan- 
tageous for  her,  and  a  great  honour,  and  that  her  whole  heart 
had  been  wisely  given,  for  once  turned  on  the  old  woman  and 
defied  her,  threatening  to  appeal  to  the  law,  and  showing  that 
she  knew  so  much  that  was  wicked  in  her  life  that  the  witch 
became  as  much  frightened  as  she  was  enraged,  well  knowing 
that  an  investigation  by  justice  would  bring  her  to  the  bonfire. 
So,  inspired  by  the  devil,  she  turned  the  girl  into  a  cow,  and 
shut  her  up  in  a  stable  in  the  courtyard  of  the  house,  where 
she  went  every  day  two  or  three  times  to  beat  and  torture  her 
victim  in  the  most  fiendish  manner. 

"  Meanwhile  the  disappearance  of  Artemisia  had  excited 
much  talk  and  suspicion,  as  it  followed  immediately  after  the 
refusal  of  the  old  woman  to  give  her  daughter  to  the  young 
gentleman.  And  he  indeed  was  in  sad  case  and  great  suffering, 
but  after  a  while,  recovering  himself,  he  began  to  wonder  whether 
the  maid  was  not  after  all  confined  in  the  Via  Vacchereccia. 
And  as  love  doubles  all  our  senses  and  makes  the  deaf  hear, 
and,  according  to  the  proverb,  '  he  who  finds  it  in  his  heart 


THE  ENCHANTED  COW  in 

will  feel  spurs  in  his  flanks,'  so  this  young  man,  hearing  the 
old  woman  spoken  of  as  a  witch,  began  to  wonder  whether 
she  might  not  be  one  in  truth,  and  whether  Artemisia  might 
not  have  been  confinata  or  enchanted  into  some  form  of  an 
animal,  and  so  imprisoned. 

"  And,  full  of  this  thought,  he  went  by  night  to  the  house, 
where  there  was  an  opening  like  a  window  or  portal  in  the 
courtyard,  and  began  to  sing : 

"  *  Batte  le  dodici  a  una  campana, 
Si  sente  appena  dalla  lontana. 

"  'Se  almeno  la  voce  potessi  sentire, 

Delia  mia  bella  che  lanto  deve  soffrire.' 

"  '  Midnight  is  striking,  I  hear  it  afar, 
High  in  the  heaven  shines  many  a  star. 

"  '  And  oh  that  the  voice  of  the  one  I  could  hear, 
Who  suffers  so  sadly — the  love  I  hold  dear. 

"  '  Oh  stars,  if  you're  looking  with  pity  on  me, 
I  pray  you  the  maid  from  affliction  to  free  ! ' 

"  As  he  sang  this,  he  heard  a  cow  lowing  in  the  courtyard, 
and  as  his  mind  was  full  of  the  idea  of  enchantment,  his 
attention  was  attracted  to  it.  Then  he  sang : 

" '  If  enchanted  here  you  be, 

Low,  but  gently,  one,  two^  three  1 
Low  in  answer  unto  me, 
And  a  rescue  soon  you'll  see.' 

"Then  the  cow  lowed  three  times,  very  softly,  and  the 
young  man,  delighted,  put  to  her  other  questions,  and  being 
very  shrewd,  he  so  managed  it  as  to  extract  with  only  yea  and 
nay  all  the  story.  Having  learned  all  this,  he  reflected  that 
to  beat  a  terrier  'tis  well  to  take  a  bulldog,  and  after  much 
inquiry,  he  found  that  there  dwelt  in  Arezzo  a  great  sorcerer, 
but  a  man  of  noble  character,  and  was,  moreover,  astonished 
to  learn  from  his  mother  that  this  gran  mago  had  been  a 
friend  of  his  father. 

"  And  being  well  received  by  the  wise  man,  and  having  told 
his  story,  the  sage  replied  : 

" '  Evil  indeed  is  the  woman  of  whom  you  speak — a  black 
witch  of  low  degree,  who  has  been  allowed,  as  all  of  her  kind 
are,  to  complete  her  measure  of  sin,  in  order  that  she  may 
icceive  her  full  measure  of  punishment.  For  all  things  may 


112  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

be  forgiven,  but  not  cruelty,  and  she  has  lived  on  the  sufferings 
of  others.  Yet  her  power  is  of  a  petty  kind,  and  such  as  any 
priest  can  crush. 

" '  Go  to  the  stable  when  she  shall  be  absent,  and  I  will 
provide  that  she  shall  be  away  all  to-morrow.  Then  bind 
verbena  on  the  cow's  horns,  and  hang  a  crucifix  over  the 
door,  and  sprinkle  all  the  floor  with  holy  water  and  incense, 
and  sing  to  the  cow  : 

" '  The  witch  is  not  thy  mother  in  truth, 
She  stole  thee  in  thy  early  youth, 
She  has  deserved  thy  bitterest  hate, 
Then  fear  not  to  retaliate  ; 
And  when  she  comes  to  thee  again, 
Then  rush  at  her  with  might  and  main  ; 
She  has  heaped  on  thee  many  a  scorn, 
Repay  it  with  thy  pointed  horn.' 

" '  And  note  that  there  is  a  halter  on  the  cow's  neck,  and 
this  is  the  charm  which  gives  her  the  form  of  a  cow,  but  it 
cannot  be  removed  except  in  a  church  by  the  priest.' 

"  And  to  this  he  added  other  advice,  which  was  duly  followed. 

"  Then  the  next  day  the  young  man  went  to  the  stable,  and 
did  all  that  the  wise  man  had  bid,  and  hiding  near,  awaited 
the  return  of  the  witch.  Nor  had  he  indeed  long  to  wait,  for 
the  witch,  who  was  evidently  in  a  great  rage  at  something,  and 
bore  a  cruel-looking  stick  with  an  iron  goad  on  the  end, 
rushed  to  the  courtyard  and  into  the  stable,  but  fell  flat  on  the 
floor,  being  overcome  by  the  holy  water.  And  the  cow,  whose 
halter  had  been  untied  from  the  post,  turned  on  her  with  fury, 
and  tossed  and  gored  her,  and  trampled  on  her  till  she  was 
senseless,  and  then  ran  full  speed,  guided  by  the  young  man, 
to  the  Baptistery,  into  which  she  entered,  and  where  there 
was  a  priest  awaiting  her.  And  the  priest  sprinkled  her  with 
holy  water,  and  took  the  halter  from  her  neck,  and  she  was 
disenchanted,  and  became  once  more  the  beautiful  Artemisia. 

"  And  this  done,  the  young  man  took  the  halter,  and  hurrying 
back  to  the  stable,  put  it  about  the  neck  of  the  witch,  who  at 
once  became  a  cow  without  horns,  or  such  as  are  called  *  the 
devil's  own.'  And  as  she,  maddened  with  rage,  rushed  forth, 
attacking  everybody,  all  the  town  was  soon  after  her  with 
staves,  pikes,  and  all  their  dogs,  and  so  they  hunted  her  down 
through  the  Uffizzi  and  along  Lung'  Arno,  all  roaring  and 
screaming  and  barking,  out  into  the  country,  for  she  gave  them 
a  long  run  and  a  good  chase,  till  they  came  to  a  gate  of  a 


THE  ENCHANTED  COW  113 

podere,  over  which  was  a  Saint  Antony,  who,  indignant  that 
she  dared  pass  under  him,  descended  from  his  niche,  and 
gave  her  a  tremendous  blow  with  his  staff  between  the  horns, 
or  where  they  would  have  been  if  she  had  possessed  them. 
Whereupon  the  earth  opened  and  swallowed  her  up,  amid  a 
fearful  flashing  of  fire,  and  a  smell  which  was  even  worse  than 
that  of  the  streets  of  Siena  in  summer-time — which  is  often  so 
fearful  that  the  poorer  natives  commonly  carry  fennel  (as 
people  do  perfumed  vinaigrettes  in  other  places)  to  sniff  at, 
as  a  relief  from  the  horrible  odour. 

"  And  when  all  this  was  done,  the  mago  revealed  to  the 
maiden  that  her  parents,  who  were  still  living,  were  very  great 
and  wealthy  people,  so  that  there  was  soon  a  grand  reunion,  a 
general  recognition,  and  a  happy  marriage. 

"  '  Maidens,  beware  lest  witches  catch  you  ; 
Think  of  the  Via  Vacchereccia ; 
And  tourists  dining  in  the  same, 
Note  how  the  street  once  got  its  name.1 " 


THE  WITCH  OF  THE  PORT  A  ALL  A  CROCE 

"  If  any  secret  should  sacred  be, 
Though  it  guarded  the  life  of  a  family, 
And  any  woman  be  there  about, 
She  will  die  but  what  she  will  find  it  out ; 
And  though  it  hurried  her  soul  to — well — 
That  secret  she  must  immediately  tell." 

— Sage  Stuffing  for  Young  Ducks. 

THERE  are  in  Italy,  as  elsewhere,  families  to  whom  a 
fatality  or  tradition  is  attached.  The  following  is  a  curious 
legend  of  the  kind : 

LA  FATTUCHIERA  DELLA  PORTA  ALLA  CROCK. 

"There  was  a  very  old  Florentine  family  which  lived  in  a 
castle  in  the  country.  The  elder  or  head  of  this  family  had 
always  one  room  in  which  no  one  was  ever  allowed  to  enter. 
There  he  passed  hours  alone  every  day,  and  woe  to  any  one 
who  dared  disturb  him  while  there.  And  this  had  been  the 
case  for  generations,  and  no  one  had  ever  found  out  what  the 
secret  was.  This  was,  of  course,  a  great  vexation  to  the  ladies 
of  the  family — perche  la  donna  e  sempre  churiosa — women  being 
always  inquisitive. 

"  And  most  inquisitive  of  all  was  a  niece  of  the  old  man, 
who  had  got  it  into  her  head  that  the  secret  was  simply  a  great 
treasure  which  she  might  obtain.  Therefore  she  resolved  to 
consult  with  a  certain  witch,  who  would  tell  her  what  it  was, 
and  how  she  could  enter  the  mysterious  room.  This  sorceress 
lived  hard  by  the  Porta  alia  Croce,  for  there  are  always  many 
witches  in  that  quarter. 

"The  witch,  who  was  a  very  large  tall  woman,  made  the 
niece  go  with  her  to  an  isolated  small  house,  and  thence  along 
a  path,  the  lady  in  advance.  While  so  doing,  the  latter  turned 
her  head  to  look  behind  her,  and  at  that  instant  heard  the  cry 

of  a  civetta  or  small  owl.     The  witch  exclaimed,  'My  dear 

114 


THE  WITCH  OF  THE  PORT  A  ALL  A  CROCE      115 

lady,  what  you  wish  for  will  hardly  be  granted ;  I  fear  there 
is  a  great  disaster  awaiting  you.' 

"  Then  they  went  into  a  field,  and  the  fortune-teller  produced 
a  goblet  of  coloured  glass,  and  called  to  the  swallow,  which  is 
a  bird  of  good  omen,  and  to  the  small  owl,  which  forebodes 
evil,  and  said,  '  Whichever  shall  alight  first  on  the  edge  of  this 
cup  will  be  a  sign  to  you  of  success  or  failure,' 

"  But  the  first  which  came  and  sat  upon  the  cup  was  the  owl. 

"Then  the  witch  said,  'What  there  is  in  that  room  I 
cannot  reveal,  for  it  disturbs  my  soul  far  too  much.  But 
I  know  that  the  number  of  that  room  is  thirteen,  and  you  can 
infer  for  yourself  what  that  portends ;  and  more  I  cannot  tell 
you,  save  that  you  should  be  extremely  careful  and  keep  a 
cheerful  heart  —  otherwise  there  is  great  trouble  awaiting 
you.' 

"But  the  lady  returned  home  in  a  great  rage  at  her  dis- 
appointment, and  all  the  more  resolved  to  enter  the  room. 
Then  all  the  family  finding  this  out,  reproached  her,  and  urged 
her  not  to  be  so  distracted  ;  and  she,  being  obstinate,  only 
became  the  more  determined  ;  for  she  was  furious  that  she 
could  not  force  an  old  man  to  reveal  a  secret  which  had 
been  handed  down  for  many  generations,  and  which  could 
only  be  confided  to  one,  or  to  the  eldest,  when  the  old  man 
should  die. 

"  And  at  last  her  evil  will  or  mania  attained  such  command 
over  her,  that  she  resolved  to  kill  all  the  family  one  by  one, 
till  the  succession  of  the  secret  should  come  to  her.  And  so, 
after  boiling  deadly  herbs  with  care,  she  made  a  strong  subtle 
poison.  And  by  this  means  she  put  to  death  her  parents, 
brothers  and  sisters,  aunts  and  all  the  family,  without  remorse, 
so  resolved  was  she  to  master  the  secret. 

"  The  last  to  perish  was  her  grandfather,  and  calling  her  to 
his  bedside  he  said,  '  We  have  all  died  by  thy  hand ;  we  who 
never  did  thee  any  harm  ;  and  thou  hast  felt  no  remorse. 
This  thou  didst  to  gain  a  treasure,  and  bitterly  wilt  thou  be 
disappointed.  Thy  punishment  will  begin  when  thou  shalt 
learn  what  the  thing  was  so  long  hidden  :  truly  there  was 
sorrow  enough  therein,  without  the  misery  which  thou  hast 
added  to  it.  That  which  thou  wilt  find  in  the  chamber  is  a 
skull— the  skull  of  our  earliest  ancestor,  which  must  always  be 
given  to  the  care  of  the  eldest  descendant,  and  I  now  give  it 
to  thee.  And  this  thou  must  do.  Go  every  morning  at  seven 
o'clock  into  the  room  and  close  the  windows.  Then  light 


n6  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

four  candles  before  the  skull.  In  front  of  it  there  lies  a  great 
book  in  which  is  written  the  history  of  all  our  family,  my  life 
and  thine;  and  see  that  thou  do  this  with  care,  or  woe  be 
unto  thee ! ' 

"  Therewith  the  old  man  died,  and  scarcely  had  he  departed 
ere  she  called  an  old  woman  who  was  allied  and  devoted  to 
the  family,  and  in  a  rage  told  her  all  the  secret.  The  old 
woman  reproved  her,  saying  that  she  would  bring  punishment 
on  herself.  But,  without  heeding  this,  the  lady  ran  to  the 
chamber,  entered,  and  seeing  the  skull,  gave  it  a  kick  and 
hurled  it  from  the  window,  far  below. 

"But  a  minute  after  she  heard  a  rattling  sound,  and  looking 
at  the  window,  there  the  skull  was  grinning  at  her.  Again  she 
threw  it  down,  and  again  it  returned,  and  was  with  her  wherever 
she  went;  day  after  day,  waking  or  sleeping,  the  skull  was 
always  before  her  eyes. 

"  At  last  fear  came  over  her,  and  then  horror,  and  she  said 
to  the  old  woman,  '  Let  us  go  to  some  place  far,  far  away,  and 
bury  the  skull.  Perhaps  it  will  rest  in  its  grave.'  The  old 
woman  tried  to  dissuade  her,  and  they  went  to  a  lonely  spot 
at  a  great  distance,  and  there  they  dug  long  and  deep. 

"  Dug  till  a  great  hole  was  made,  and  the  lady  standing  on 
the  edge  dropped  the  skull  into  it.  Then  the  hole  spread  into 
a  great  pit,  flame  rose  from  it — the  edge  crumbled  away— the 
guilty  woman  fell  into  the  fire,  and  the  earth  closed  over  it 
all,  and  there  was  no  trace  left  of  her. 

"  The  skull  returned  to  the  castle  and  to  its  room ;  people 
say  it  is  there  to  this  day.  The  old  woman  returned  too,  and 
being  the  last  remote  relation,  entered  into  possession  of  the 
property." 

There  is  perhaps  not  one  well-educated  person  in  society 
in  England  who  has  not  had  the  opportunity  to  remark 
how  very  much  any  old  family  can  succeed  in  being 
notorious  if  it  can  only  once  make  it  known  that  it  has 
an  hereditary  secret.  Novels  will  be  written  on  it,  every 
member  of  it  will  be  pointed  out  everywhere,  and  people 
who  do  not  know  the  name  of  a  sovereign  in  Europe  can 
tell  you  all  about  it  and  them.  And  the  number  is  not 
small  of  those  who  consider  themselves  immensely  greater 
because  they  have  in  some  way  mastered  something  which 


THE  WITCH  OF  THE  PORTA  ALLA  CROCE      117 

they  are  expected  to  keep  concealed.  I  could  almost 
believe  that  this  "  'orrible  tale  "  was  composed  as  a  satire 
on  family  secrets.  But  I  believe  that  she  who  told  it 
firmly  believed  it.  Credo  quia  absurdum  would  not  be 
well  understood  among  humble  folk  in  Italy. 

"To  this  I  may  add,"  writes  Flaxius,  "that  there  is  an 
English  legend  of  a  certain  skull  which  always  returned  to  a 
certain  window  in  a  tower.  Apropos  of  which  there  is  a  poem 
called  The  Student  and  the  Head  in  '  Hans  Breitmann  in  Ger- 
many' (London:  T.  Fisher  Unwin,  1895),  prefaced  by  a 
remark  to  the  effect  that  the  subject  is  so  extensive  as  to 
deserve  a  book — instancing  the  head  of  the  physician  Douban 
in  the  '  Arabian  Nights/  with  that  of  Orpheus,  which  spoke  to 
Cyrus,  and  that  of  the  priest  of  Jupiter,  and  another  described 
by  Trallianus,  and  the  marvellously  preserved  head  of  a  saint 
in  Olaf  Tryggvason's  Saga,  and  the  Witch's  Head  of  Rider 
Haggard,  with  many  more,  not  to  speak  of  the  talking  Tera- 
phim  heads,  and  Friar  Bacon's  bust.  With  which  a  thoroughly 
exhaustive  list  should  include  the  caput  mortuum  of  the 
alchemists 

"'And  the  dead-heads  of  the  Press,' " 


THE   COLUMN   OF  COSIMO,   OR   DELL  A 
SANTA    TRINITA 

11  Cohimna  Florentine — Prope  Sanctas  Trinitatis  sedem  ingens  et  sublimis 
columna  erecta,  cujus  in  fastigio  extat  justitia.  Earn  erexit  Cosmus 
Magnus  Dux,  cui  per  urbem  deambulanti,  illic  de  victoria  renunciatum 
fuit  quam  Malignani  Marchio  in  Senarum  finibus  anno  1555  contra  Petrum 
Strozium  obtinuit." — Templum  Natures  Historicum,  Darmstadt,  1611. 

"  Vesti  una  Colonna, 
Le  par  una  donna." — Italian  Proverb. 

THE  central  spot  of  Florence  is  the  grand  column  of  granite 
which  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  Piazza  di  Santa  Trinita,  in 
the  Via  Tornabuoni,  opposite  the  Palazzo  Feroni.  It  was 
brought  from  the  Baths  of  Caracalla  in  Rome,  and  erected  in 
1564  by  Cosimo  I.,  "in  commemoration  of  the  surrender  of 
Siena  in  1554,  and  of  the  destruction  of  the  last  liberties  of 
Florence  by  the  victory  at  Monte  Murlo,  1537,  over  those 
whom  his  tyranny  had  driven  into  exile,  headed  by  Filippo 
and  Piero  Strozzi.  It  is  surmounted  by  a  statue  of  'Justice' 
in  porphyry,  by  Ferruci"  says  Murray's  Guide-Book — the 
Italian  declares  it  to  be  by  Taddi,  adding  that  the  column 
was  from  the  Baths  of  Antoninus,  and  was  a  gift  to  Cosimo  I. 
from  Pius  IV. 

There  is  a  popular  legend  that  once  on  a  time  a  poor  girl 
was  arrested  in  Florence  for  having  stolen  a  chain,  a  bracelet, 
or  some  such  article  of  jewellery  of  immense  value.  She  was 
thrown  into  prison,  but  though  there  was  collateral  or  indirect 
evidence  to  prove  her  guilt,  the  stolen  article  could  not  be 
found.  Gossip  and  rumour  constituted  ample  grounds  for 
indictment  and  trial,  and  torture  did  the  rest  in  the  pious 
times  when  it  was  generally  taught  and  believed  that  Provi- 
dence would  always  rescue  the  innocent,  and  that  everybody 
who  came  to  grief  on  the  gallows  had  deserved  it  for  some- 
thing or  other  at  some  time,  and  that  it  was  all  right. 

So  the  girl  was  executed,  and  almost  forgotten.  When  a 
long  time  after,  some  workman  or  other  was  sent  up  to  the 

xx8 


THE  COLUMN  OF  COSLMO  119 

top  of  the  column  of  the  Piazza  Trinita,  and  there  found  that 
a  jackdaw  or  magpie  had  built  a  nest  in  the  balance  or  scales 
held  by  Justice,  and  in  it  was  the  missing  jewel. 

This  is  an  Italian  form  of  "The  Maid  and  the  Magpie," 
known  the  world  over  from  ancient  times.  The  scales  suggest 
a  droll  German  story.  There  was  in  front  of  a  certain  palace 
or  town-hall,  where  all  criminals  were  tried,  a  statue  of  Justice 
holding  a  pair  of  scales,  and  these  were  not  cast  solid,  but 
were  a  bona  fide  pair  of  balances.  And  certain  low  thieves 
having  been  arrested  with  booty — whatever  it  was — it  was 
discovered  that  they  had  divided  it  among  themselves  very 
accurately,  even  to  the  ounce.  At  which  the  magistrate  greatly 
marvelling,  asked  them  how  they  could  have  done  it  so  well, 
since  it  had  appeared  that  they  had  not  been  in  any  house 
between  the  period  of  the  theft  and  their  arrest.  Whereupon 
one  replied  :  "  Very  easily,  your  Honour,  for,  to  be  honourable, 
honest,  and  just  as  possible,  we  weighed  the  goods  in  the 
scales  of  Justice  itself,  here  on  the  front  of  the  Rath-haus" 

It  is  for  every  reason  more  probable  that  the  bird  which 
stole  the  jewel  of  the  column  was  a  jackdaw  than  a  magpie, 
and  it  is  certainly  fitter  that  it  should  have  been  thus  in 
Florence.  "It  is  well  known,"  says  Oken  in  his  "Natural 
History"  (7  B.  Part  I.  347),  "that  the  jackdaw  steals  glittering 
objects,  and  carries  them  to  its  nest."  Hence  the  ancient 
legend  of  Arne,  who  so  greatly  loved  gold,  that  she  sold  her 
native  isle  Siphnos  to  Minos,  and  was  for  that  turned  by  the 
gods  into  a  daw  (Ovid's  "Metamorphoses,"  vii.  466).  As  a 
mischief-making,  thieving,  and  chattering  bird  of  black  colour, 
the  jackdaw  was  naturally  considered  evil,  and  witches,  or 
their  imps,  often  assumed  its  form.  In  fact,  the  only  really 
good  or  pious  bird  of  the  kind  on  record  known  to  me,  is  the 
jackdaw  of  Rheims  sung  by  Ingoldsby  Barham. 

According  to  Kornmannus,  the  column  was  placed  where  it 
now  stands,  because  Cosimo  was  in  the  Piazza  Trinita  when 
he  heard  the  news  of  the  surrender  of  Siena. 

After  I  had  written  the  foregoing  legend,  I  found  the 
following : 

LA  COLONNA  DI  SANTA  TRINITX 

"  The  pillar  di  Santa  Trinita  was  in  old  times  a  meeting- 
place  for  fairies  (Fate),  whither  they  went  afoot  or  in  their 


120  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

carriages.  At  the  base  of  the  column  there  was  a  great  stone, 
and  there  they  exchanged  greetings  or  consulted  about  their 
affairs.  They  were  all  great  ladies,  of  kindly  disposition. 
And  when  it  came  that  any  one  was  cast  into  the  city  prison, 
they  inquired  into  the  affair,  and  then  a  fate  would  go  as  a 
magistrate  in  disguise  and  question  the  accused.  Now  they 
always  knew  whether  any  one  spoke  the  truth,  and  if  the 
prisoner  did  so,  and  was  deserving  mercy,  they  delivered  him  ; 
but  if  he  lied,  they  left  him  to  be  hanged,  with  a  buon  pro  vi 
faccia  ! — Much  good  may  it  do  you  ! 

"  Of  evenings  they  assembled  round  the  rock  at  the  foot  of 
the  column  in  a  great  company,  and  had  great  merriment  and 
love-making.  Then  in  the  crowd  a  couple  would  descend,  or 
one  after  another  into  their  vaults  below,  and  then  come  again, 
often  taking  with  them  mortals  who  were  their  friends  or 
favourites. 

"  Their  chief  was  a  matron  who  always  held  a  pair  of  scales. 
Now  when  they  were  to  judge  the  fate  of  any  one,  they  took 
with  great  care  the  earth  from  one  of  his  footprints,  and 
weighed  it  most  scrupulously,  for  thereby  they  could  tell 
whether  in  his  life  he  had  done  more  good  or  evil,  and  it  was 
thus  that  they  settled  the  fate  of  all  the  accused  in  the  prisons. 

"  And  it  often  came  to  pass  that  when  prisoners  were  young 
and  handsome,  these  fate  or  fairy-witches  took  them  from 
their  cells  in  the  prison  through  subterranean  ways  to  their 
vaults  under  the  Trinita,  and  passed  the  time  merrily  enough, 
for  all  was  magnificent  there. 

"  But  woe  unto  those,  no  matter  how  handsome  they  might 
be,  who  betrayed  the  secrets  and  the  love  of  the  fate.  Verily 
they  had  their  reward,  and  a  fine  long  repentance  with  it,  for 
they  were  all  turned  into  cats  or  mice,  and  condemned  to  live 
in  the  cellars  and  subterranean  passages  of  the  old  Ghetto, 
which  is  now  destroyed — and  a  nasty  place  it  was.  In  its  time 
people  often  wondered  that  there  were  so  many  cats  there, 
but  the  truth  is  that  they  were  all  people  who  had  been 
enchanted  by  those  who  were  called  in  olden  time  le  Gran 
Dame  di  Ftrenze—\he.  Great  Ladies  of  Florence. 

"  And  the  image  holding  the  scales  is  called  la  Giustizia^ 
but  it  really  represents  the  Matrona,  or  Queen  of  the  Fate,  who 
of  old  exercised  such  strict  justice  with  her  scales  in  Florence." 

This  is,  I  am  confident,  a  tradition  of  great  antiquity, 
for  all  its  elements  are  of  a  very  ancient  or  singularly 


THE  COLUMN  OF  COSIMO  121 

witch-like  nature.  In  it  the  fate  are  found  in  their  most 
natural  form,  as  fates,  weighing  justice  and  dealing  out 
rewards  and  punishments.  Justice  herself  appears  nafvely 
and  amusingly  to  the  witches  as  Queen  of  the  Fate,  who 
are  indeed  all  spirits  who  have  been  good  witches  in  a 
previous  life. 

What  is  most  mystical  and  peculiarly  classic  Italian 
is  the  belief  that  the  earth  on  which  a  human  being 
has  trod  can  be  used  wherewith  to  conjure  him.  This 
subject  is  treated  elsewhere  in  my  "  Etruscan  Roman 
Traditions." 

The  great  stone  at  the  base  of  the  column  was  a  kind 
of  palladium  of  the  city  of  Florence.  There  are  brief 
notices  of  it  in  many  works.  It  would  be  curious  if  it 
still  exists  somewhere  and  can  be  identified. 

"  A  great  palladium,  whose  virtues  lie 
In  undefined  remote  antiquity  ; 
A  god  unformed,  who  sleeps  within  a  stone, 
Which  sculptor's  hand  as  yet  has  never  known  ; 
Brought  in  past  ages  from  some  unknown  shore  ; 
Our  fathers  worshipped  it — we  know  no  more." 


LEGENDS  OF  OR'  SAN  MICHELE 

"  The  spirit  of  Antiquity,  enshrined 

In  sumptuous  buildings,  vocal  in  sweet  song, 
In  pictures  speaking  with  heroic  tongue, 
And  with  devout  solemnities  entwined." 

— WORDSWORTH,  "Bruges" 

OR'  SAN  MICHELE  is  a  very  beautiful  church  in  the  Italian 
Gothic  style  in  the  Via  Calzaioli.  It  was  originally  a 
market  or  stable  below  and  a  barn  or  granary  above, 
whence  some  derive  its  name  from  Horreum  Sancti 
Michaelis,  and  others  from  the  Italian  Orto,  a  garden,  a 
term  also  applied  to  a  church-congregation.  "  The  statues 
and  decorations  on  the  exterior  are  among  the  best  pro- 
ductions of  the  Florentine  school  of  sculpture."  As  that 
of  Saint  Eloy  or  San  Eligio,  the  blacksmith,  with  great 
pincers  at  an  anvil,  in  a  sculpture  representing  a  horse 
being  shod,  is  the  most  conspicuous  on  the  facade,  the 
people  have  naturally  concluded  that  the  church  was 
originally  a  stable  or  smithy.  The  legend  of  the  place  is 
as  follows : 

LA  CHIESA  OR'  SAN  MICHELE. 

"  This  was  originally  a  stable  and  coach-house  (rimessa\  and 
there  was  a  hayloft  above.  Every  night  the  horses  were 
heard  to  neigh,  and  in  the  morning  they  were  found  all  curried 
and  well  managed,  and  no  one  knew  who  did  it ;  but  none  of 
the  grooms  ever  shed  any  tears  over  it  that  ever  I  heard  of. 

"  Now,  the  master  of  the  place  had  a  son,  a  priest  named 
Michele,  who  was  so  holy  that  he  worked  many  miracles,  so 
that  all  began  to  call  him  a  saint  And  after  he  died  he 
appeared  to  his  parents  in  a  dream,  and  told  them  that  the 
stable  and  barn  should  be  transformed  into  a  church,  and  that 
he  would  read  mass  therein  thrice  a  day. 


LEGENDS  OF  OR>  SAN  MICHELE  123 

"  But  his  parents  wished  to  have  him  buried  under  the  altar 
of  a  church  which  was  on  their  estate  in  the  country,  but  the 
saint  did  not  wish  to  be  buried  there. 

"  One  day  one  of  the  grooms  of  the  stable  found  that  a  horse 
could  not  move  a  foot,  so  he  ran  to  call  the  manescalco^  or 
blacksmith,  who  led  the  horse  to  his  forge.  And  when  he  took 
the  hoof  to  examine  it,  lo  !  it  came  off  at  the  joint  and  remained 
in  his  hand.  Then  the  smith  said  that  the  horse  should  be 
killed,  because  he  was  now  worthless.  But  the  horse  struck 
his  stump  on  the  hoof,  and  the  latter  joined  itself  to  his  leg  as 
firmly  as  ever  it  had  been.  But  in  doing  this  the  old  shoe  fell 
off,  whence  it  comes  to  this  day  that  whoever  finds  an  old 
horse-shoe  gets  luck  with  it. 

"  When  the  smith  had  shod  the  horse  anew,  he  tried  to  lead 
it  back  into  the  stable,  but  it  refused  to  enter.  Then  it  was 
plain  that  this  was  a  miracle  worked  by  San  Michele.  So  they 
removed  all  the  horses  and  hay  from  the  building,  and  made 
of  it  the  fine  church  which  is  now  called  La  Chiesa  di  Or*  San 
Michele." 

There  is  a  vast  mass  of  tradition  extant  relative  to  the 
Horse,  enough  to  make  a  large  volume,  and  in  it  there  is  a 
great  deal  which  is  so  nearly  allied  to  this  story  as  to 
establish  its  antiquity.  Karl  Blind  has  found  an  old  Norse 
spell,  in  which,  by  the  aid  of  Balder  and  Odin,  the  lameness 
of  a  horse's  ankle  or  pastern  joint  can  be  cured.  There  is 
another  version  of  this  story,  which  runs  as  follows : 


THE  SMITH  AND  SAINT  PETER. 

"  It  is  a  good  thing  in  this  world  to  be  bold  and  have  a  good 
opinion  of  one's  self;  yes,  and  to  hold  your  head  high — but 
not  so  high  as  to  bend  over  backwards — else  that  may  happen 
to  you  which  befell  the  celebrated  cock  of  Aspromonte." 

"  And  what  happened  to  him  ?  " 

"  Only  this,  Signore — he  was  so  cocky,  and  bent  his  head 
so  far  backwards,  that  his  spurs  ran  into  his  eyes  and  blinded 
him.  Now,  the  cock  reminds  me  of  Saint  Peter,  and  too  much 
cheek  of  \heferrajo  spacciato^  or  the  saucy  smith,  who  wanted 
to  equal  him. 

"  It  happened  once  that  the  Lord  and  Saint  Peter  came  to 


124  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

a  forge,  and  the  smith  was  about  to  lead  a  horse  from  the  stable 
to  the  anvil  to  shoe  him.  Saint  Peter  said  : 

" '  Thou  hast  boasted  that  thou  art  the  best  smith  in  the 
world,  and  canst  work  such  wonders  in  shoeing  as  man  never 
beheld.  Canst  thou  not  shoe  this  horse  without  taking  him 
to  the  forge  ? ' 

"  '  Neither  thou,  nor  I,  nor  any  man  can  do  it/  replied  the 
smith. 

"  Saint  Peter  took  the  hoof  in  his  left  hand,  gave  it  a  rap 
with  the  side  of  his  right  across  the  joint,  and  the  hoof  fell  off. 
Then  Saint  Peter  carried  it  to  the  anvil,  fastened  a  new  shoe 
on  it,  returned  and  put  it  on  the  horse  again,  who  stamped 
with  it  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  Now  the  smith,  like  all  boasters,  was  a  great  fool,  and  he 
only  thought  that  this  was  something  which  he  had  not  learned 
before,  and  so  cried  boldly,  '  Oh,  that  is  only  the  Bolognese 
manner  of  taking  hoofs  off  and  putting  them  on — we  do  it 
much  better  here  in  Florence ! '  So  he  seized  the  horse's  hoof, 
and  with  one  blow  of  a  hatchet  cut  it  off. 

" '  And  now  put  it  on  again,'  said  Saint  Peter.  The  smith 
tried,  but  it  would  not  stick. 

"'The  horse  is  bleeding  to  death  rapidly,'  remarked  the  Saint. 

" '  I  believe,'  said  the  smith  ruefully,  '  that  I  am  a  fool  in 
folio.' 

" '  Piu  matto  che  un  granchio — as  crazy  as  a  crawfish,' 
solemnly  added  one  of  his  assistants. 

"  '  Pazzo  a  bandiera — as  wild  and  witless  as  a  flapping  flag,' 
quoth  another. 

" '  Matto  di  sette  cotte — an  idiot  seven  times  baked,'  chimed 
in  Saint  Peter. 

"  *  A  campanile — a  church  bell-tower  of  a  fool,'  contributed 
his  wife,  who  had  just  come  in. 

"The  poor  horse  continued  to  bleed. 

"  *  You  are  like  the  mouse,'  added  a  neighbour,  '  who  thought 
because  he  had  dipped  the  end  of  his  tail  in  the  meal,  that  he 
owned  and  could  run  the  mill.' 

"  *  The  Florentine  method  of  shoeing  horses,'  remarked  Saint 
Peter  gravely,  'does  not  appear  to  be  invariably  successful.  I 
think  that  we  had  better  recur  to  mine.'  And  with  this  he  put 
the  hoof  to  the  ankle,  and  presto  !  the  miracle  was  wrought  again. 
That  is  the  story.  In  most  cases,  Signore,  un  pazzo  gitta  una 
pietra  nel pozzo — a  fool  rolls  a  rock  into  a  well  which  it  requires 
a  hundred  wise  men  to  get  out  again.  This  time  a  single  sage 


LEGENDS  OF  OR'  SAN  MICHELE  125 

sufficed.  But  for  that  you  must  have  the  Lord  at  your  back,  as 
Saint  Peter  had." 

"Why  do  they  say,  as  foolish  as  a  crawfish  or  lobster?" 
I  inquired. 

"  Because,  Signore,  the  granchio^  be  he  lobster  or  crawfish, 
carries  his  head  in  the  scarsella,  which  is  a  hole  in  his  belly. 
Men  who  have  their  brains  in  their  bellies — or  gluttons — are 
generally  foolish.  But  what  is  the  use  of  boasting  of  our 
wisdom  ?  He  who  has  neither  poor  men  nor  fools  among  his 
relations  was  born  of  the  lightning  or  of  thunder." 

There  is  another  story  current  among  the  people, 
though  it  is  in  print,  but  as  it  is  a  merry  one,  belonging 
truly  enough  to  the  folk-lore  of  Florence,  I  give  it  as  it 
runs: 

"You  have  heard  of  Piovano  Arlotto,  who  made  this  our 
town  so  lively  long  ago.  It  was  rich  then,  indeed.  There  are 
more  flowers  than  florins  in  Florence  now :  ogni  for  non  fa 
frutto — all  flowers  do  not  bear  fruit. 

"  Well,  it  happened  one  day  that  Piovano,  having  heard  a 
good  story  from  Piero  di  Cosimo  de'  Medicis,  answered  with 
another.  Now  the  tale  which  Messer  Piero  di  Cosimo  told 
was  this : 

"Once  there  lived  in  Florence  a  poor  shoemaker,  who 
went  every  morning  to  the  Church  of  San  Michele  Berteldi 
— some  say  it  was  at  San  Bartolommeo,  and  maybe  at  both, 
for  a  good  story  or  a  big  lie  is  at  home  anywhere. 

"  Well,  he  used  to  pray  before  a  John  the  Baptist  in  wood, 
or  it  may  have  been  cast  in  plaster,  or  moulded  in  wax,  which 
was  on  the  altar.  One  morning  he  prayed  scalding  hot,  and 
the  chierico — a  boy  who  waits  on  the  priest,  who  was  a  young 
rascal,  like  all  of  his  kind — overheard  him  say:  'Oh,  Saint 
John,  I  pray  thee  make  known  to  me  two  things.  One  is 
whether  my  wife  is  good  and  true  to  me,  and  the  other  what 
will  become  of  my  only  son.' 

"  Then  the  mass-boy,  who  had  hidden  himself  behind  the 
altar,  replied  in  a  soft,  slow,  strange  voice :  '  Know,  my  son, 
that  because  thou  hast  long  been  so  devout  to  me,  thou  shalt 
be  listened  unto.  Return  hither  to-morrow,  and  thou  wilt  be 
answered ;  and  now  go  in  peace.' 

"  And  the  shoemaker,  having  heard  this,  verily  believed  that 
Saint  John  had  spoken  to  him,  and  went  his  way  with  great 


126  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

rejoicing.  So,  bright  and  early  the  next  morning,  he  was  in 
the  church,  and  said :  '  Saint  John,  I  await  thy  reply.' 

"  Then  the  mass-boy,  who  was  hidden  as  before,  replied : 
*  Oh,  my  son,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  thy  wife  is  no  better  than 
she  should  be — hafattofallo  con  piu  d'uno — and  everybody  in 
Florence  except  thee  knows  it.' 

"  *  And  my  son  ?  '  gasped  the  shoemaker. 

" '  He  will  be  hung,'  replied  the  voice. 

"  The  shoemaker  rose  and  departed  abruptly.  In  the  middle 
of  the  church  he  paused,  and,  without  a  sign  of  the  cross,  and 
putting  on  his  cap,  he  cried :  '  What  sort  of  a  Saint  John  are 
you,  anyhow?' 

" '  Saint  John  the  Baptist,'  replied  the  voice. 

"  *  Sia  col  malanno  e  con  la  mala  Pasque  che  Iddio  ti  dia  ! — 
Then  may  the  Lord  give  you  a  bad  year  and  a  miserable 
Easter-tide !  You  never  utter  aught  save  evil,  and  it  was  for 
thy  evil  tongue  that  Herod  cut  thy  head  off — and  served  thee 
right !  I  do  not  believe  a  word  of  all  which  thou  hast  told  me. 
I  have  been  coming  here  every  day  for  twenty-five  years,  and 
never  asked  thee  for  anything  before;  but  I  will  make  one 
more  vow  to  thee,  and  that  is — never  to  see  thy  face  again.' 

"And  when  Messer  Cosimo  had  ended,  Piovano  Arlotto 
replied : 

"'One  good  turn  deserves  another.  It  is  not  many  years 
ago  since  a  poor  farsettajo^  or  doublet-maker,  lived  in  Florence, 
his  shop  being  close  to  the  Oratorio  di  Orto  San  Michele,1 
and  every  morning  he  went  to  worship  in  the  church,  and  lit 
a  candle  before  a  picture  representing  Christ  as  a  child  dis- 
puting with  the  Doctors,  while  his  mother  enters  seeking  him. 

"  *  And  after  he  had  done  this  daily  for  more  than  twenty- 
five  years,  it  happened  that  his  little  son,  while  looking  on  at  a 
game  of  ball,  had  a  tile  fall  on  his  head,  which  wounded  him 
terribly.  The  doctors  being  called  in,  despaired. 

" '  The  next  morning  the  poor  tailor  went  to  his  devotions 
in  Or'  San  Michele,  bearing  this  time,  instead  of  a  farthing 
taper,  a  great  wax-candle ;  and  kneeling,  he  spoke  thus : 
"  Dolce  Signor  mio  Gesil  Cristo,  I  beg  thee  to  restore  my  son 
to  health.  Thou  knowest  that  I  have  worshipped  thee  here 
for  twenty-five  years,  and  never  asked  for  anything  before,  and 
thou  thyself  can  best  bear  witness  to  it.  This  my  son  is  all 
my  happiness  on  earth,  and  he  was  also  most  devoted  to  thee. 

1  The  reader  may  observe  that  these  popular  names  of  Oratorio  and 
Orto  are  most  likely  to  have  given  the  prefix  Or'. 


LEGENDS  OF  OR'  SAN  MICHELE  127 

Should  he  be  taken  away,  I  would  die  in  despair,  and  so  I 
commend  myself  to  thee  ! " 

"  *  Then  he  departed,  and  coming  home,  learned  that  his  son 
had  died. 

"  *  The  next  morning,  in  grief  and  anger,  he  entered  Orto 
San  Michele,  and,  without  any  candle,  he  went  directly  to  the 
picture,  and,  without  kneeling,  broke  forth  in  these  words : 
"  Jo  ti  disgrazio — I  dislike,  disown,  and  despise  thee,  and  will 
return  here  no  more.  Five-and-twenty  years  have  I  worshipped 
thee,  and  never  asked  for  anything  before,  and  now  thou  dost 
refuse  me  my  request.  If  I  had  only  gone  to  the  great  crucifix 
there,  I  daresay  I  should  have  got  all  I  wanted ;  but  this  is 
what  comes  of  trusting  to  a  mere  child,  for,  as  the  proverb 
says,  Chi  s'impaccia  con  fanciulli,  con  fanciulli  si  ritrova — he 
who  troubles  himself  with  children  will  himself  be  treated  as 
a  child."1 

It  is  worth  remarking,  as  regards  the  tone  and  character 
of  this  tale,  that  such  freedom  was  commonest  when 
people  were  most  devout.  The  most  sceptical  critics 
generally  agree  that  these  stories  of  Piovano  Arlotto  are 
authentic,  having  been  dictated  by  him,  and  that  he  had 
a  very  exceptional  character  in  his  age  for  morality, 
honesty,  and  truth.  He  himself  declared,  without  being 
contradicted,  that  he  was  the  only  priest  of  whom  he 
knew  who  did  not  keep  a  mistress ;  and  yet  this  story  is 
simply  an  average  specimen  of  the  two  hundred  connected 
with  his  name,  and  that  they  in  turn  are  identical  in 
character  with  all  the  popular  wit  and  humour  of  the 
time. 

Regarding  the  image  of  the  Holy  Blacksmith,  Saint 
Eligius  or  Eloi,  the  authors  of  "  Walks  in  Florence  "  say 
that  it  is  attributed  to  Nanni  di  Banco,  and  is  meagre  and 
stiff,  but  has  dignity,  which  accords  admirably  with  the 
character  of  most  saints,  or  their  ideals.  It  is  evident 
that  the  bon  roi  Dagobert  was  considered  as  the  type  of 
all  that  was  free  and  easy — 

"  Le  bon  roi  Dagobert 
Mettait  son  culotte  a  1'envers." 


128  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Therefore  he  is  contrasted  with  the  very  dignified  Saint 
Eloy,  who  was  (like  the  breeches)  quite  the  reverse,  de- 
clining to  lend  the  monarch  two  sous,  which  Dagobert  had 
ascertained  were  in  the  holy  man's  possession.  "The 
bas-relief  below,"  continue  the  critics  cited,  "is  more 
certainly  by  the  hand  of  Nanni.  It  records  a  miracle  of 
Saint  Eloy,  who  one  day,  when  shoeing  a  restive  horse 
which  was  possessed  by  a  demon,  and  was  kicking  and 
plunging,  cut  off  the  animal's  leg  to  fasten  the  shoe,  and 
having  completed  his  task,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  and 
restored  the  severed  limb."  I  regret  to  say  that  this  was 
written  without  careful  reference  to  the  original.  It  was 
not  the  leg  of  the  horse  which  was  severed,  nor  a  limb, 
but  only  the  hoof  at  the  pastern  joint. 

There  is  yet  another  explanation  of  this  bas-relief, 
which  I  have  somewhere  read,  but  cannot  now  recall — 
more's  the  pity,  because  it  is  the  true  one,  as  I  remember, 
and  one  accounting  for  the  presence  of  the  female  saint 
who  is  standing  by,  evidently  invisibly.  Perhaps  some 
reader  who  knows  Number  Four  will  send  it  to  me  for  a 
next  edition. 

It  is  worth  noting  that  there  is  in  Innsbruck,  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Inn,  a  blacksmith's  shop,  on  the  front  of  which 
is  a  very  interesting  bas-relief  of  the  fourteenth  or  fifteenth 
century,  representing  Saint  Peter  or  Eligius  with  the 
horse  in  a  smithy. 

There  is  another  statue  on  the  exterior  of  this  church, 
that  of  Saint  Philip,  by  the  sculptor  Nanni  de  Banco,  con- 
cerning which  and  whom  I  find  an  anecdote  in  the  Facetie 
Diverse,  A.D.  1636: 

"  Now,  it  befell  in  adorning  the  church  of  Or'  San  Michele 
in  Florence,  that  /  Consoli  cTArte  (Art  Directors  of  Florence) 
wanting  a  certain  statue,  wished  to  have  it  executed  by 
Donatello,  a  most  excellent  sculptor;  but  as  he  asked  fifty 
scudi,  which  was  indeed  a  very  moderate  price  for  such  statues 
as  he  made,  they,  thinking  it  too  dear,  refused  him,  and  gave  it 


LEGENDS  OF  OR'  SAN  MICHELB  129 

to  a  sculptor  mediocre  e  mulo — indifferent  and  mongrel — who 
had  been  a  pupil  of  Donatello  ;  nor  did  they  ask  him  the  price, 
supposing  it  would  be,  of  course,  less.  Who,  having  done  his 
best,  asked  for  the  work  eighty  scudi.  Then  the  Directors  in 
anger  explained  to  him  that  Donatello,  a  first-class  sculptor,  had 
only  asked  fifty ;  but  as  he  refused  to  abate  a  single  quattrino, 
saying  that  he  would  rather  keep  the  statue,  the  question  was 
referred  to  Donatello  himself,  who  at  once  said  they  should 
pay  the  man  seventy  scudi.  But  when  they  reminded  him  that 
he  himself  had  only  asked  fifty,  he  very  courteously  replied, 
*  Certainly,  and  being  a  master  of  the  art,  I  should  have  exe- 
cuted it  in  less  than  a  month,  but  that  poor  fellow,  who  was 
hardly  fit  to  be  my  pupil,  has  been  more  than  half  a  year 
making  it.' 

"  By  which  shrewd  argument  he  not  only  reproached  them 
for  their  meanness  and  his  rival  for  incapacity,  but  also  vindi- 
cated himself  as  an  artist." 

This  is  the  story  as  popularly  known.  In  it  Nanni  is 
called  Giovanni,  and  it  is  not  true  that  he  was  an  un- 
worthy, inferior  sculptor,  for  he  was  truly  great.  There 
is  another  legend  of  Or'  San  Michele,  which  is  thus  given 
by  Pascarel,  who,  however,  like  most  writers  on  Florence, 
is  so  extravagantly  splendid  or  "  gushing  "  in  his  descrip- 
tion of  everything,  that  untravelled  readers  who  peruse  his 
pages  in  good  faith  must  needs  believe  that  in  every 
church  and  palazzo  there  is  a  degree  of  picturesque  mag- 
nificence, compared  to  which  the  Pandemonium  of  Milton, 
or  even  the  Celestial  City  itself  as  seen  by  Saint  John,  is 
a  mere  cheap  Dissenting  chapel.  According  to  him,  Or' 
San  Michele  is  by  right  "  a  world's  wonder,  and  a  gift  so 
perfect  to  the  whole  world,  that,  passing  it,  one  should 
need  say  (or  be  compelled  to  pronounce)  a  prayer  for 
Taddeo's  soul."  Which  is  like  the  dentist  in  Paris,  who 
proclaimed  in  1 847  that  it  was — 

"  Presque  une  crime 
De  ne  pas  crier,  '  Vive  Fattet  ! ' " 

The  legend,  as  told  by  this  writer,  and  cited  by  Hare, 

is  as  follows : 

i 


1 3o  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"Surely  nowhere  in  the  world  is  the  rugged,  changeless, 
mountain  force  of  hewn  stone  piled  against  the  sky,  and  the 
luxuriant,  dream-like  poetic  delicacy  of  stone  carven  and  shaped 
into  leafage  and  loveliness,  more  perfectly  blended  and  made 
one  than  where  San  Michele  rises  out  of  the  dim,  many- 
coloured,  twisting  streets,  in  its  mass  of  ebon  darkness  and  of 
silvery  light 

"  The  other  day,  under  the  walls  of  it,  I  stood  and  looked 
at  its  Saint  George,  where  he  leans  upon  his  shield,  so  calm, 
so  young,  with  his  bared  head  and  his  quiet  eyes. 

"  '  That  is  our  Donatello's,'  said  a  Florentine  beside  me — 
a  man  of  the  people,  who  drove  a  horse  for  hire  in  the  public 
ways,  and  who  paused,  cracking  his  whip,  to  tell  this  tale  to 
me.  'Donatello  did  that,  and  it  killed  him.  Do  you  not 
know  ?  When  he  had  done  that  Saint  George  he  showed  it  to 
his  master.  And  the  master  said,  "  It  wants  one  thing  only." 
Now  this  saying  our  Donatello  took  gravely  to  heart,  chiefly 
because  his  master  would  never  explain  where  the  fault  lay ; 
and  so  much  did  it  hurt  him,  that  he  fell  ill  of  it,  and  came 
nigh  to  death.  Then  he  called  his  master  to  him.  "  Dear  and 
great  one,  do  tell  me  before  I  die,"  he  said,  "what  is  the  one 
thing  my  statue  lacks  ?  "  The  master  smiled  and  said  :  "  Only 
speech."  "Then  I  die  happy,"  said  our  Donatello.  And  he— 
died — indeed,  that  hour.' 

"  Now  I  cannot  say  that  the  pretty  story  is  true — it  is  not 
in  the  least  true ;  Donatello  died  when  he  was  eighty-three,  in 
the  Street  of  the  Melon,  and  it  was  he  himself  who  cried, 
'  Speak  then — speak  ! '  to  his  statue,  as  it  was  carried  through 
the  city.  But  whether  true  or  false,  this  fact  is  surely  true, 
that  it  is  well — nobly  and  purely  well — with  a  people  when 
the  men  amongst  it  who  ply  for  hire  on  its  public  ways  think 
caressingly  of  a  sculptor  dead  five  hundred  years  ago,  and 
tell  such  a  tale,  standing  idly  in  the  noonday  sun,  feeling  the 
beauty  and  the  pathos  of  it  all." 

Truly,  in  a  town  half  of  whose  income  is  derived  from 
art-hunting  tourists,  and  where  every  vagabond  offers 
himself,  in  consequence,  as  a  cicerone,  it  is  no  sign  that 
"all  is  well  —  nobly  and  purely  well — with  a  people," 
because  a  coachman  who  had  been  asked  which  was 
Donatello's  Saint  George  by  about  five  hundred  English 
"  fares,"  and  nearly  as  many  American  young  ladies — of 


LEGENDS  OF  OR'  SAN  MICHELE  131 

whom  many  of  the  latter  told  him  all  they  knew  about 
it — should  have  picked  up  such  a  tale.  In  fact,  while  I 
have  been  amazed  at  the  incredible  amount  of  legend, 
superstitious  traditions,  and  incantations  existing  among 
the  people,  I  have  been  struck  by  their  great  ignorance 
of  art,  and  all  pertaining  to  it ;  of  which,  were  it  worth 
while,  I  could  cite  convincing  and  amusing  instances. 

"  But  as  regards  a  vast  proportion  of  the  '  sweet  and  light ' 
writing  on  the  Renaissance  and  on  Italy  which  is  at  present 
fashionable,"  writes  Flaxius,  "  I  am  reminded  of  the  *  esthetic 
axe'ems '  of  an  American  writer,  the  first  of  which  were  : 

"  '  Art  is  a  big  thing.  Always  bust  into  teers  wen  you  see 
a  pictur.' 

"  '  Bildins  and  churches  arn't  of  no  account  unless  they  drive 
you  clean  out  of  your  census.'  " 


THE    WITCH  OF   THE   ARNO 

"  II  spirito  usci  dal  fiume  a  un  Iratto, 
E  venne  come  Dio  1'aveva  fatto, 
E  presentando  come  un  cortegiano 
Alia  donna  gentil  la  destra  mano, 
'  Scusate,'  disse  si  io  vengo  avanti 
E  se  vi  do  la  mano  sensa  guanti." — Paranti. 

THE  following,  as  a  French  book  of  fables  says,  is  "a 
poem,  or  rather  prose  rhymed  :  " 

"  Two  pretty  maids  one  morning  sat  by  the  rushing  stream. 
It  murmured  glittering  in  the  sun ;  it  seemed  to  sing  as  on  it 
run,  enchanting  while  a  wantoning,  as  in  a  merry  dream. 

"  Said  one  unto  the  other  :  *  I  wish,  and  all  in  truth,  that  the 
glorious  dancing  river  were  as  fine  and  brave  a  youth.  Its 
voice  is  like  an  angel's,  its  drops  of  light  like  eyes  so  bright 
are  beautiful  I  wis.  Oh,  ne'er  before,  on  sea  or  shore,  did  I 
love  aught  like  this.' 

"  A  voice  came  from  the  river :  '  For  a  love  thou  hast  chosen 
me ;  henceforward,  sweet,  for  ever  thine  own  love  I  will  be. 
Wherever  there  is  water,  of  Florence  the  fairest  daughter,  by 
night  or  day  or  far  away,  thou'lt  find  me  close  by  thee.' 

"She  saw  bright  eyes  a  shining  in  dewdrops  on  her  path 
— she  returned  unto  the  palace,  she  entered  in  a  bath.  *  How 
the  water  doth  caress  me ;  'tis  embracing  me,  I  vow ! 
M'abbrada,  mi  baccia — my  lover  has  me  now.  Since  fate 
has  really  willed  it,  then  to  my  fate  I  bow.' 

"Seven  years  have  come  and  vanished,  seven  years  of 
perfect  bliss.  Whenever  she  washed  in  water,  she  felt  her  lover's 
kiss.  She  washed  full  oft,  I  ween;  'twas  plain  to  be  seen 
there  was  no  maid  in  Florence  who  kept  herself  so  clean. 

"  Little  by  little,  as  summer  makes  frogs  croak  in  a  ditch, 
there  spread  about  a  rumour  that  the  damsel  was  a  witch. 
They  showed  her  scanty  mercies ;  with  cruelty  extreme,  with 
blows  and  bitter  curses,  they  cast  her  in  the  stream.  '  If  she 

132 


THE  WITCH  OF  THE  ARNO  133 

be  innocent,  she'll  sink,  so  hurl  her  from  the  Arno's  brink ;  if 
guilty,  she  will  swim  ! ' 

"  Up  rose  from  the  sparkling  river  a  youth  who  was  fair  to 
see.  '  I  have  loved  thee,  and  for  ever  thine  own  I'll  truly  be.' 
He  took  her  in  his  arms ;  she  felt  no  more  alarms.  *  Farewell 
to  you  all ! '  sang  she  ;  '  a  fish  cannot  drown  in  the  water ;  now 
I  am  a  fish,  you  know — the  Arno's  loving  daughter.  Per 
sempre  addio  ! ' " 

The  foregoing  is  not  literal,  nor  do  I  know  that  it  is 
strictly  "  traditional ; "  it  is  a  mere  short  tale  or  anecdote 
which  I  met  with,  and  put  into  irregular  metre  to  suit  the 
sound  of  a  rushing  stream.  I  take  the  liberty  of  adding 
to  it  another  water-poem  of  my  own,  which  has  become, 
if  not  "  popular,"  at  least  a  halfpenny  broadside  sold  at 
divers  street-stands  by  old  women,  the  history  whereof  is 
as  follows : — I  had  written  several  ballads  in  Italian  in 
imitation  of  the  simplest  old-fashioned  lyrics,  and  was 
anxious  to  know  if  I  had  really  succeeded  in  coming 
down  to  the  level  of  the  people,  for  this  is  a  very  difficult 
thing  to  do  in  any  language.  When  I  showed  them  to 
Marietta  Pery,  she  expressed  it  as  her  candid  opinion 
that  they  were  really  very  nice  indeed,  and  that  I  ought 
for  once  in  my  life  to  come  before  the  public  as  a 
poet.  And  as  I,  fired  by  literary  ambition,  at  last  con- 
sented to  appear  in  this  rdle,  Marietta  took  a  ballad, 
and  going  to  E.  Ducci,  32  Via  Pilastri,  who  is  the  Cat- 
nach  of  Florence  (I  advise  collectors  of  the  really  curious 
to  buy  his  soldo  publications),  made  an  arrangement 
whereby  my  song  should  appear  as  a  broadside,  the  lady 
strictly  conditioning  that  from  among  his  blocks  Signore 
Ducci  should  find  a  ship  and  a  flying  bird  to  grace  the 
head  and  the  end  of  the  lyric.  But  as  he  had  no  bird, 
she  took  great  credit  to  herself  that  for  five  francs  she 
not  only  got  a  hundred  copies,  but  also  had  specially 
engraved  for  the  work  and  inserted  an  object  which 
appears  as  flying  to  the  right  hand  of  the  ship.  The 
song  was  as  follows : 


134  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

LA   BELLA   STREGA. 
Nuova  Canzonetta  di  CHARLES  GODFREY  LELAND. 

Era  una  bella  Strega 
Che  si  bagnava  alia  riva ; 
Vennero  i  pirati 
Lei  presero  captiva. 

II  vento  era  in  poppa 
Sull'  onde  la  nave  ballb 
La  donna  lacrimante 
Al  capitan  parlb. 

"  O  Signer  capitano  ! 
O  Capitano  del  mar ! 
Darb  cento  ducati, 
Se  tu  mi  lasci  andar." 

"  Non  prenderb  cento  ducati, 

Tu  costi  molto  piu 

lo  ti  vendrb  al  Sultano," 

Disse  il  Capitano, 

"  Per  mille  zecchini  d'oro 

Vi  stimi  troppo  giu." 

"  Non  vuoi  i  cento  ducati 
Ebben  tu  non  gli  avrai, 
Ho  un'  amante  amato 
Non  mi  abbandona  mai." 

Essa  sede  sul  ponte 
Principib  a  cantar, 
"  Vieni  il  mio  amante," 
Da  lontano  il  vento 
Si  mette  a  mugghiar. 

Forte  e  piu  forte 

La  tempesta  ruggio, 

Gridava  il  capitano : 

"  lo  credo  che  il  tuo  amante 

E  il  vento  che  corre  innante, 

Ovvero  il  diavolo." 


THE   IV ITCH  OF  THE  ARNO 

Forte  e  piu  forte 

La  procella  urlb, 

"  Sono  rocce  davanti, 

E  il  vento  vien  di  dietro 

Benvenuto  sei  tu  mio  amante  !  " 

La  bella  donna  canto. 


135 


"  Vattene  al  tuo  amante 
All'  inferno  a  cantar !  " 
Disse  il  Capitano 
E  getto  la  donna  fuori, 
Delia  nave  nel  mar. 


Ma  come  un  gabbiano 
Sull'  onde  essa  void. 
41 0  mio  Capitano, 
Non  sarai  appiccato, 
Ma  sarai  annegato : 
Per  sempre  addio  1 " 


[36  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  WITCH. 

A  pretty  witch  was  bathing 
In  the  sea  one  summer  day ; 
There  came  a  ship  with  pirates, 
Who  carried  her  away. 

The  ship  due  course  was  keeping 
On  the  waves  as  they  rose  and  broke ; 
The  lovely  lady,  weeping, 
Thus  to  the  captain  spoke : 

"  O  Signer  Capitano  ! 

0  captain  of  the  sea  ! 

I'll  give  you  a  hundred  ducats 
If  you  will  set  me  free." 

"  I  will  not  take  a  hundred, 

You're  worth  much  more,  you  know ; 

1  will  sell  you  to  the  Sultan 
For  a  hundred  gold  sequins ; 
You  set  yourself  far  too  low." 

"  You  will  not  take  a  hundred — 
Oh  well !  then  let  them  be, 
But  I  have  a  faithful  lover, 
Who,  as  you  may  discover, 
Will  never  abandon  me." 

Upon  the  windlass  sitting, 
The  lady  began  to  sing  : 
"  Oh,  come  to  me,  my  lover  ! " 
From  afar  a  breeze  just  rising 
In  the  rigging  began  to  ring. 

Louder  and  ever  louder 

The  wind  began  to  blow : 

Said  the  captain,  "  I  think  your  lover 

Is  the  squall  which  is  coming  over, 

Or  the  devil  who  has  us  in  tow." 

Stronger  and  ever  stronger 

The  tempest  roared  and  rang, 

"There  are  rocks  ahead  and  the  wind  dead  aft, 

Thank  you,  my  love,"  the  lady  laughed ; 

And  loud  to  the  wind  she  sang. 


THE  WITCH  OF  THE  ARNO  137 

"  Oh,  go  with  your  cursed  lover, 
To  the  devil  to  sing  for  me  ! " 
Thus  cried  the  angry  rover, 
And  threw  the  lady  over 
Into  the  raging  sea. 

But  changing  to  a  seagull, 

Over  the  waves  she  flew  : 

"  Oh  captain,  captain  mine,"  sung  she, 

"  You  will  not  swing  on  the  gallows-tree, 

For  you  shall  drown  in  the  foaming  sea — 

Oh  captain,  for  ever  adieu  !  " 

I  must  in  honesty  admit  that  this  my  ctibut  as  an 
Italian  poet  was  not  noticed  in  any  of  the  reviews- - 
possibly  because  I  did  not  send  it  to  them — and  there 
were  no  indications  that  anybody  considered  that  a  new 
Dante  had  arisen  in  the  land.  It  is  true,  as  Marietta 
told  me  with  much  delight,  that  the  printer,  or  his  fore- 
man, had  declared  it  was  a  very  good  song  indeed ;  but 
then  he  was  an  interested  party.  And  Marietta  also 
kindly  praised  it  to  the  skies  (after  she  had  corrected  it) ; 
but  then  Marietta  was  herself  a  far  better  poet  than  I 
can  ever  hope  to  be,  and  could  afford  to  be  generous. 

The  reader  will  pardon  me  if  I  avail  myself  of  the 
opportunity  to  give  another  Italian  ballad  which  I  wrote 
on  a  theme  which  I  also  picked  up  in  Florence. 

IL  GIARDINO  D'AMORE,  o  LA  FIGLIA  DEL  RE,  E  IL 
CONTINO  STREGONE. 

Era  un  giovine  Contino, 
Di  tutto  il  paese  il  nor, 
Aveva  un  bel  giardino, 
II  bel  giardin  d'amor. 

"  Chi  batte  alia  mia  porta  ?  " 
Domanda  il  bel  Contin'. 
"  Son  la  figlia  del  re, 
Vo  vedere  il  tuo  giardin'  ?  " 


138  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Entra  pur  nel  mio  giardino, 

0  bella  figlia  del  re, 
Purche  tu  non  tocchi  niente, 
A  cio  che  dentro  v'e  ! " 

Entrata  nel  giardino, 
La  bella  figlia  del  re, 
Non  vidde  cola  niente, 
Che  fiori  e  foglie. 

Le  foglie  eran  d'argento, 
Di  oro  ogni  fior, 

1  frutti  eran'  gemmi, 
Nel  bel  giardin  d'amor. 

Sedi  sulla  panchetta, 
Sotto  il  frascame  la ; 
Che  vissi  nel  sentiero  ? 
Un  bell'  anello  c'era. 

Non  seppe  che  il  Contino, 
Fu  stregone  appostator ; 
Non  seppe  che  1'anello, 
Era  lo  stesso  signer. 

Ella  ando  nel  suo  letto, 
Con  1'anello  nella  man', 
Non  'n  sospetto  che  la  trasse 
Sul  dito  un  giovan. 

Svegliato  da  un  bacino, 
Tra  la  mezzanotte  e  tre ; 
Si  trovb  il  bel  Contino 
Accanto  alia  figlia  del  re. 

Credo  che  fu  ben  contenta 
Con  la  cosa  come  era ; 
Come  molte  donne  sarebbero 
Con  tal  stregoneria. 

Portar  dei  gioielli, 
A  de'  sposi  il  fior ; 
II  di  un  di-amante, 
La  notte  un  bel  signer, 


THE  WITCH  OF  THE  ARNO  139 

D'avere  un  bel  diamante 
Place  ognuno,  si ; 
Ma  meglio  e  un  amante 
Quando  non  ha  piii  il  di. 

Chi  scrisse  questa  canzone 
Un  gran  Contino  e, 
Anch  'egli  il  stregone 
Ch'  amava  la  figlia  del  re. 


THE  GARDEN  OF  LOVE,  OR  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 
AND  THE  WIZARD  COUNT. 

There  was  a  Count  of  high  degree, 
All  others  far  above ; 
He  had  a  garden  fair  to  see, 
'Twas  called  the  Garden  of  Love. 

"  Now  who  is  knocking  at  my  gate  ? 
Who  is  it  that  makes  so  free  ?  " 
"  Oh,  I  am  the  daughter  of  the  king, 
And  your  garden  I  would  see  ! " 

"Oh,  come  into  my  garden, 
Fair  daughter  of  the  king  ! 
Look  well  at  all  that's  growing, 
But  touch  not  anything  ! " 

She  entered  in  the  garden, 
The  princess  young  and  fair, 
She  looked  it  all  well  over, 
Yet  nothing  but  trees  were  there. 

But  every  leaf  was  of  silver, 
The  flowers  of  gold ;  in  the  grove 
The  fruits  were  gems  and  jewels 
In  the  beautiful  Garden  of  Love. 

She  sat  beneath  the  foliage, 
The  daughter  of  the  king ; 
What  shone  in  the  path  before  her  ? 
A  beautiful  diamond  ring  ! 


140  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

She  knew  not  that  the  County 
Was  a  wizard  wondrous  wise ; 
She  did  not  know  that  the  diamond 
Was  the  wizard  in  disguise. 

And  when  at  night,  fast  sleeping, 
The  diamond  ring  she  wore, 
She  never  dreamed  that  her  finger 
Was  bearing  a  young  signer. 

Awakened  by  his  kisses 
As  she  heard  the  midnight  ring, 
There  was  the  handsome  wizard 
By  the  daughter  of  the  king. 

I  ween  she  was  well  contented, 
As  many  dames  would  be, 
If  they  could  be  enchanted 
With  just  such  sorcery. 

To  have  not  only  a  jewel, 
But  a  husband,  which  is  more, 
All  day  a  dazzling  diamond, 
And  by  night  a  bright  signor ! 

Who  was  it  wrote  this  ballad 
About  this  loving  pair? 
He  was  the  Count  and  wizard 
Who  won  the  princess  fair. 


STORIES  OF  SAN  MINIATO 

"The  picturesque  height  of  San  Miniato,  now  the  great  cemetery  of  the 
city,  which  dominates  the  Arno  from  the  south,  has  an  especial  religious 
and  saintly  interest.  The  grand  Basilica,  with  its  glittering  ancient 
mosaic,  shines  amid  the  cypresses  against  the  sky,  and  whether  it  gleams 
in  the  sunlight  against  the  blue,  or  is  cut  in  black  on  the  primrose  sky  of 
twilight,  it  is  equally  imposing." — "Echoes  of  Old  Florence"  by  LEADER 
SCOTT. 

To  the  old  people  of  Florence,  who  still  see  visions  and 
dream  dreams,  and  behold  the  wind  and  the  stars  at 
noonday  (which  latter  thing  I  have  myself  beheld),  the 
very  ancient  convent  of  San  Miniato,  "the  only  one 
in  Tuscany  which  has  preserved  the  ancient  form  of 
the  Roman  basilica,"  and  the  neighbourhood,  are  still  a 
kind  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  where  witches  fly  of  nights  more 
than  elsewhere,  where  ghosts  or  folletti  are  most  com- 
monly seen,  and  where  the  orco  and  the  nightmare  and 
her  whole  ninefold  disturb  slumbers  a  bel  agio  at  their 
easiest  ease,  as  appears  by  the  following  narrative : 

SAN  MINIATO  FRA  LE  TORRE. 

"This  is  a  place  which  not  long  ago  was  surrounded  by 
towers,  which  were  inhabited  by  many  witches. 

"Those  who  lived  in  the  place  often  noticed  by  night  in 
those  towers,  serpents,  cats,  small  owls,  and  similar  creatures, 
and  they  were  alarmed  by  frequently  seeing  their  infants  die 
like  candles  blown  out — struggere  i  bambini  come  candele  ;  nor 
could  they  understand  it ;  but  those  who  believed  in  witch- 
craft, seeking  in  the  children's  beds,  often  found  threads  woven 
together  in  forms  like  animals  or  garlands,  and  when  mothers 
had  left  their  children  alone  with  the  doors  open,  found  their 
infants,  on  returning,  in  the  fireplace  under  the  ashes.  And 


142  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

at  such  times  there  was  always  found  a  strange  cat  in  the 
room. 

"And  believing  the  cat  to  be  a  witch,  they  took  it,  and 
first  tying  the  two  hind-paws,  cut  off  the  fore-claws  (zampe, 
claws  or  paws),  and  said : 

' ' '  Fammi  guarire 
La  mia  creatura ; 
Altrimenti  per  te  saranno 
Pene  e  guai ! ' 

"  '  Cure  my  child, 
Or  there  shall  be 
Trouble  and  sorrow 
Enough  for  thee  ! ' 

"This  happened  once,  and  the  next  day  the  mother  was 
sitting  out  of  doors  with  her  child,  when  she  saw  a  woman 
who  was  her  intimate  friend  at  her  window,  and  asked  her  if 
she  would  not  wash  for  her  her  child's  clothes,  since  she  her- 
self was  ill.  But  the  other  replied  :  *  I  cannot,  for  I  have  my 
hands  badly  cut.' 

"Then  the  mother  in  a  rage  told  this  to  other  women 
whose  children  had  been  bewitched  or  died. 

"Then  all  together  seized  the  witch,  and  by  beating  her, 
aided  with  knives  crossed,  and  whatever  injuries  they  could 
think  of,  subdued  her  and  drenched  her  under  a  tower  with 
holy  water.  And  the  witch  began  to  howl,  not  being  able  to 
endure  this,  and  least  of  all  the  holy  water ! 

"  When  all  at  once  there  came  a  mighty  wind,  which  blew 
down  the  witch-tower,  and  carried  away  the  witch,  and  killed 
all  the  uncanny  animals  which  dwelt  in  the  ruins.  And  un- 
believers say  that  this  was  done  by  an  earthquake ;  but  this  is 
not  true,  for  the  witches  were  really  the  cause  (chagione]  of  its 
overthrow. 

"And  though  many  old  things  are  destroyed  and  rebuilt, 
there  are  many  cats  still  there  which  are  assuredly  witches. 

"  And  in  the  houses  thereabout  people  often  perceive  and 
see  spirits,  and  if  any  one  will  go  at  night  in  the  Piazza  San 
Miniato  fra  le  Torn,  especially  where  those  old  things  (chose 
vecche)  were  cleared  away,  he  will  see  sparks  of  fire  (faville  di 
fuocho)  break  out,  and  then  flames;  and  this  signifies  that 
some  diabolical  creature  or  animal  is  still  confined  there  which 
needs  relief  (che  a  bisogna  di  bene\  or  that  in  that  spot  lies  a 
treasure  which  requires  to  be  discovered." 


STORIES  OF  SAN  MINIATO  143 

I  consider  this  as  very  interesting,  because  I  most 
truthfully  guarantee  that  this  specimen  of  witch-lore  was 
written  in  good  faith  and  firm  belief,  and  is  not  at  all, 
like  most  of  the  tales  gleaned  or  gathered  now-a-days, 
taken  from  people  who  got  them  from  others  who  per- 
haps only  half  believed  in  them.  She  who  wrote  it  has 
no  more  doubt  that  witch-cats  prowl,  and  that  wild-fire 
hisses  forth  from  evil  spirits  in  durance  pent  'neath  the 
soil  of  San  Miniato,  than  that  the  spirit  of  the  Arno 
appears  as  "a  small  white  hand  pointing  tremulously 
upwards." 

There  is  given  in  the  Facetice  of  Piovano  Arlotto, 
which  is  considered  a  truthful  record  of  the  adventures  of 
its  subject,  a  tale  relative  to  San  Miniato  which  cannot 
here  be  deemed  out  of  place.  It  is  as  follows  : 


LA  TESTA  DI  SAN  MINIATO. 

"There  was  in  Florence  a  poor  and  learned  gentleman — 
savio  e  da  bene,  who  was  a  good  friend  of  Piovano  Arlotto, 
who  was  also  good  to  him,  since  he  had  often  aided  the 
former  with  money,  meal,  and  many  other  things,  and  indeed 
without  such  help  he  could  hardly  have  fed  his  family  ;  for  he 
had  fourteen  sons  and  daughters,  and  though  the  proverb 
says  Figliuoli)  mioli,  'lenzuoli  non  sono  mat  troppi  in  una  casa — 
there  are  never  too  many  children,  glasses,  or  linen  sheets  in 
a  house,  this  good  man  found  indeed  that  he  had  too  many 
of  the  former. 

"Now  to  help  dire  need,  this  gentleman  tried  to  buy  on 
credit  two  bales  of  cloth,  one  wherewith  to  clothe  his  family, 
and  the  other  to  sell  in  order  to  make  some  money.  To  do 
this,  he  needed  some  one  to  be  his  security,  and  he  had 
recourse  to  Piovano  Arlotto,  who  willingly  agreed  to  pay  the 
manufacturer  in  case  the  friend  who  gave  his  note  could  not 
meet  it.  Now  he  found  that  the  manufacturer  had  sadly 
cheated  the  purchaser  in  the  measure  or  quantity,  fully  one- 
half,  as  was  also  evident  to  many  others ;  however,  as  matters 
stood,  he  was  obliged  to  let  it  pass. 

"  As  things  were  thus,  the  poor  gentleman  died  and  passed 


144  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

away  from  this  misera  vita  or  sad  life,  and  Piovano  was  in 
deep  grief  for  his  loss,  and  as  much  for  the  poor  orphans. 

"  When  the  note  fell  due,  the  manufacturer  went  to  Piovano 
Arlotto  and  asked  for  his  money,  saying  that  he  only  de- 
manded what  was  justly  due  to  him. 

"  And  after  a  few  days'  delay,  he  paid  the  man  two-thirds  of 
the  sum,  and  ten  florins  for  the  time  and  trouble,  and  said  he 
would  not  give  a  farthing  more.  Then  the  dealer  begun  to 
dun  him,  but  he  evaded  every  demand.  Then  the  mer- 
chant employed  a  young  man,  eighteen  years  of  age,  who  had 
not  his  equal  in  Florence  to  collect  debts.  And  this  youth 
set  to  work  in  earnest  to  get  from  the  priest  the  sum  of  about 
twenty-eight  gold  florins,  still  due  from  the  account. 

"  In  a  few  days  he  had  attacked  Piovano  a  hundred  times 
with  the  utmost  impudence,  in  the  market,  in  the  public 
squares,  on  the  streets  at  home,  and  in  the  church,  without 
regard  to  persons  present,  at  all  times,  and  in  every  aggra- 
vating way,  until  the  priest  conceived  a  mortal  hatred  of  the 
dun,  and  turned  over  in  his  head  many  ways  to  get  rid 
of  him. 

"  At  last  he  went  one  day  to  the  Abbot  of  San  Miniato  or 
Monte,  and  said  to  him :  '  Padre  reverendo^  I  seek  your 
paternal  kindness  to  relieve  a  very  distressing  case  in  which  I 
am  concerned.  I  have  a  nephew  who  is  possessed  by  the 
devil,  one  into  whom  an  evil  spirit  has  entered,  and  who  has  a 
monomania  that  I  owe  him  money,  and  is  always  crying  to 
me  everywhere,  'When  are  you  going  to  pay  me?  I  want 
twenty-eight  florins.'  'Tis  a  great  pity,  for  he  is  a  fine  young 
man,  and  something  really  ought  to  be  done  to  cure  him. 
Now  I  know  that  the  holy  relic  which  you  possess,  the  worthy 
head  of  the  glorious  and  gracious  San  Miniato,  has  such  a 
virtue,  that,  if  it  be  once  placed  on  the  head  of  this  poor 
youth,  'twill  certainly  cure  him.  Would  you  so  contrive,  in  any 
way,  to  put  it  on  him  some  time  this  week  ? ' 

"The  Abbot  answered,  'Bring  him  when  you  will.' 

"  Piovano  thanked  him  and  said :  '  I  will  bring  him  on 
Saturday,  but  when  he  shall  be  here,  I  pray  you  be  at  the 
gate  with  seven  or  eight  strong  men,  that  he  may  not  escape ; 
for  you  know,  holy  father,  that  these  demoniacs  are  accus- 
tomed to  rage  when  they  see  relics  and  hear  prayers,  and  it 
will  be  specially  so  with  this  poor  youth,  who  is  young  and 
vigorous — yea,  it  may  be  that  'twill  be  necessary  to  give  him 
sundry  cuffs  and  kicks,  so  terrible  is  the  power  of  Satan — 


STORIES  OF  SAN  MINIATO  145 

lupus  esuriens.  Do  so,  I  pray,  without  fearing  to  hurt  my 
feelings — nay,  it  would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me,  so  heartily 
do  I  desire  to  see  him  cured.' 

"  The  Abbot  answered,  *  Bring  him  here,  my  son,  and  I  will 
see  that  all  is  rightly  done.' 

"Piovano  returned,  saying  to  himself: 

" '  Chi  vuol  giusta  vendetta, 
In  Dio  la  metta.' 

" '  Leave  vengeance  to  the  Lord,  or  to  his  ministers — vide- 
licet^ the  monks  of  San  Miniato.  Which  I  will  do.' 

"On  Friday  he  went  to  the  merchant  who  had  sold  the 
cloth,  and  said  :  '  As  for  this  which  I  owe  you,  it  is  all  rubbish. 
You  cheated  the  man  who  gave  you  the  note  out  of  half  the 
cloth — you  know  it,  and  I  can  prove  it.  However,  to  avoid 
further  trouble  and  litigation,  I  am  willing  to  pay  all,  but  you 
must  allow  time  for  it.  Dura  cosa  e  faspettare — 'tis  hard  to 
wait,  but  harder  still  to  have  nothing  to  wait  for.  The  monks 
of  San  Miniato  owe  me  for  forty  cords  of  wood,  which  is  to  be 
paid  for  at  the  end  of  two  years,  and  then  you  shall  have  your 
money.' 

"This  sounded  like  'for  ever  and  a  day'  to  the  creditor, 
and  in  a  rage  he  had  recourse  to  his  collector,  who  on 
Saturday  morning  went  to  San  Miniato.  When  he  arrived, 
he  had  to  wait  till  the  grand  mass  was  over,  to  the  great 
vexation  of  the  young  man,  and  meanwhile  eight  powerful 
monks  with  long  staves  had  grouped  themselves  about  the 
door,  awaiting  a  little  healthy  exercise. 

"  And  mass  being  over,  the  dun  hastened  up  to  the  Abbot, 
who,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  said  :  *  Oh,  my  son,  put  thy  trust 
in  God  and  in  San  Miniato  the  blessed  ;  pray  that  he  may  take 
this  evil  conceit  from  thy  head,'  and  with  this  much  more, 
till  the  young  man  grew  impatient  and  said : 

" '  Messer  Abbot,  to-day  is  Saturday,  and  no  time  for  ser- 
mons. I  have  come  to  know  what  you  are  going  to  do  about 
this  debt  of  Piovano  of  twenty-eight  florins,  and  when  it  will 
be  paid  ? ' 

"  Then  the  Abbot,  hearing,  as  he  expected,  the  demand  for 
money,  began  to  exhort  and  exorcise.  And  the  youth  began 
to  abuse  the  Abbot  with  all  kind  of  villanies,  and  finally 
turned  to  depart ;  but  the  Abbot  caught  him  by  the  cloak,  and 
there  was  a  fight.  Then  came  the  eight  monks,  who  seizing 
him,  chastised  him  lustily,  and  bound  him  with  cords,  and 

K 


146  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

bearing  him  into  the  sacristy,  sprinkled  him  with  holy  water, 
and  incensed  him  indeed — and  then  set  the  holy  head  of  San 
Miniato  on  his  head — he  thinking  they  were  all  mad  as  hatters. 
Then  they  exorcised  the  evil  spirits  in  him  —  '  Maledicti ! 
excommunicati  et  rebelles — sitis  in  pcena  czternali  nulla  requies  sit 
in  vo-o-o-bis  si  statim  non  eritis  obedientes,prceceptis  me-e-e-e-is  ! ' — 
until  the  youth  had  to  give  in,  and  beg  the  Abbot's  pardon, 
and  being  released,  fled  as  for  dear  life. 

"  But  he  met  outside  Piovano  Arlotto,  who  said  to  him : 
1  Thou  hast  had  a  dainty  drubbing,  my  son,  but  there  is  plenty 
more  where  that  came  from — non  v'e  mfin>  nefondo — there  is 
neither  end  nor  bottom  to  it.  Now  go  to  thy  master,  and  say 
that  if  he  goes  further  in  this  business  he  will  fare  worse  than 
thou  hast  done.' 

"The  youth,  returning  to  Florence,  told  the  tale  to  his 
employer,  and  how  Piovano  Arlotto  had  declared  if  they 
dunned  him  any  more  he  would  do  his  best  to  have  them 
drubbed  to  death.  So  they  dropped  the  matter — like  a  hot 
shot. 

"Everybody  in  Florence  roared  with  laughter  for  seven 
days — sparsa  la  piacevolezza  per  Firenze,  vi  fu  che  ridere  per 
setti  giorni — that  is  to  say,  everybody  laughed  except  one 
clothmaker  and  his  collector,  and  if  they  smiled,  'twas  sour  and 
bitterly — the  smile  which  does  not  rise  above  the  throat — 
the  merriment  like  German  mourning  grim.  And  as  for  the 
young  man,  he  had  to  leave  Florence,  for  all  of  whom  he 
would  collect  money  told  him  to  go  to — the  monks  of  San 
Miniato ! " 

There  was  a  curious  custom,  from  which  came  a  pro- 
verb, in  reference  to  this  monastery,  which  is  thus 
narrated  in  that  singular  work,  La  Zucca  del  Doni 
Florentine  ("The  Pumpkin  of  Doni  the  Florentine  ") : 

"  There  is  a  saying,  E  non  terrebbe  un  cocomere  alVerta — He 
could  not  catch  a  cucumber  if  thrown  to  him.  Well,  ye  must 
know,  my  masters  and  gallant  signers,  that  our  Florentine 
youth  in  the  season  of  cucumbers  go  to  San  Miniato,  where 
there  is  a  steep  declivity,  and  when  there,  those  who  are 
above  toss  or  roll  them  down  to  those  below,  while  those 
below  throw  them  up  to  those  above,  just  as  people  play  at 
toss-and-pitching  oranges  with  girls  at  windows.  So  they  keep 
it  up,  and  it  is  considered  a  great  shame  and  sign  of  feeble- 


STORIES  OF  SAN  MINIATO  147 

ness  (dapocaggine)  not  to  be  able  to  catch ;  and  so  in  declining 
the  company  of  a  duffer  one  says :  '  I'll  have  nothing  to  do 
with  him — he  isn't  able  to  catch  a  cucumber.' 

"  It  is  one  of  the  popular  legends  of  this  place  that  a  certain 
painter  named  Gallo  di  San  Miniato  was  a  terribly  severe 
critic  of  the  works  of  others,  but  was  very  considerate  as 
regarded  his  own.  And  having  this  cast  at  him  one  day,  and 
being  asked  how  it  was,  he  frankly  replied :  *  I  have  but  two 
eyes  wherewith  to  see  my  own  pictures,  but  I  look  at  those  of 
others  with  the  hundred  of  Argus.'" 

And  indeed,  as  I  record  this,  I  cannot  but  think  of  a 
certain  famous  critic  who  is  so  vain  and  captious  that 
one  must  needs  say  that  his  head,  like  a  butterfly's,  is 
all  full  of  little  is. 

"  And  this  tale  of  two  optics  reminds  me  of  the  story  of 
Messer  Gismondo  della  Stufa,  a  Florentine  of  Miniato,  who 
once  said  to  some  friends :  '  If  I  had  devoted  myself  to 
letters,  I  should  have  been  twice  as  learned  as  others,  and 
yet  ye  cannot  tell  why.'  Then  some  guessed  it  would  have 
been  due  to  a  good  memory,  while  others  suggested  genius, 
but  Messer  Gismondo  said:  'You  are  not  there  yet,  my 
children ;  it  is  because  I  am  so  confoundedly  cross-eyed  that 
I  could  have  read  in  two  books  at  once.' " 

In  the  first  legend  which  I  narrated,  the  fall  of  the 
tower  is  attributed  to  witchcraft  or  evil  spirits.  In  the 
very  ancient  frescoes  of  San  Miniato  there  is  one  in  which 
the  devil  causes  a  wall  or  tower  to  fall  down  and  crush  a 
young  monk.  What  confirms  the  legend,  or  its  antiquity, 
is  that  the  original  bell-tower  of  San  Miniato  actually  fell 
down  in  1499.  The  other  then  built  was  saved  from  a 
similar  fate  by  the  genius  of  Michael  Angelo  Buonarotti, 
who  built  a  bank  of  earth  to  support  it. 

"  H<zc  fabula  of  the  head  of  San  Miniato,"  wrote  the 
immortal  Flaxius  on  the  proof,  "  teaches  that  he  who  would 
get  round  a  priest  in  small  trickery  must  arise  uncommonly 
early — naVj  in  most  cases  'twould  be  as  well  not  to  go  to 
bed  at  all — especially  when  dunning  is  'on  the  tap.'  Con- 


148  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

earning  which  word  dun  it  is  erroneously  believed  in  England 
to  have  been  derived  from  the  name  of  a  certain  Joseph 
Dunn,  who  was  an  indefatigable  collecting  bailiff.  But  in 
very  truth  'tis  from  the  Italian  donare,  to  give  oneself  up 
to  anything  with  ardour — to  stick  to  it ;  in  accordance  with 
which,  donar  guanto,  or  to  give  the  glove,  means  to  promise 
to  pay  or  give  security.  And  if  any  philologist  differs  from 
me  in  opinion  as  to  this,  why  then — let  him  diff!  Which 
magnanimously  sounding  conclusion,  when  translated  accord- 
ing to  the  spirit  of  most  who  utter  it,  generally  means  : 

"  Let  him  be  maledict,  excommunicate,  and  damnated  ad 
inferos — in  sacula  saculorum  ! — twice  over  !  " 


THE  FRIAR'S  HEAD  OF  SANTA  MARIA  MAG- 
GIORE—THE  LADY  WHO  CONFESSED  FOR 
EVERYBODY— HOLY  RELICS 

"  He  who  speaks  from  a  window  or  a  pulpit,  or  the  top  of  a  good  name 
or  any  high  place,  should  speak  wisely,  if  he  speak  at  all,  unto  those  who 
pass." 

THE  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore  "  remounts/'  as 
the  Italians  say,  or  can  be  traced  back  to  700  A.D.,  but  it 
was  enlarged  and  renewed  by  the  architect  Bueno  in  the 
twelfth  century,  and  according  to  Pure*  it  was  the  germ  of 
a  new  style  of  architecture  which  we  find  much  refined 
(ringenttlata)  in  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore.  "There  were, 
regarding  its  bell-tower,  which  no  longer  exists,  many 
tales  and  curious  anecdotes,  which  might  form  a  part  of  a 
fine  collection  of  local  legends."  There  is  still  to-day 
on  the  wall  above  the  little  side-door  facing  the  Via  de' 
Conti,  a  much  worn  head  of  stone,  coming  out  of  a  round 
cornice,  which  is  in  all  probability  the  one  referred  to  in 
the  following  legend  : 

"  There  was  once  a  condemned  criminal  being  carried  along 
to  execution,  and  on  the  way  passed  before  the  Church  of 
Santa  Maria  Maggiore.  One  of  the  friars  put  his  head  out  of 
a  little  round  window,  which  was  just  large  enough  for  it  to 
pass  through,  and  this  was  over  the  entrance  on  the  lesser 
side  of  the  church,  facing  the  Via  de'  Conti.  As  the  con- 
demned passed  by  the  friar  said : 

"  '  Date  gli  da  here,  'un  morira  mai.' 

"  'Give  him  a  drink  and  he  never  will  die.' 

"  To  which  the  condemned  replied  : 

"  •  E  la  testa  di  costl  tu  'un  la  levrai*. 
" '  And  thy  head  shall  stick  where  it  is  for  aye.' 
149 


i5o  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  they  could  not  get  the  head 
of  the  friar  back  through  the  hole,  so  there  he  died.  And 
some  say  that  after  they  got  the  body  out  they  carried  his 
likeness  in  stone  and  put  it  there  in  the  little  round  window, 
in  remembrance  of  the  event,  while  others  think  that  it  is  the 
friar  himself  turned  to  stone — chi  sa  ?  " 

The  conception  of  a  stone  head  having  been  that  of  a 
person  petrified  for  punishment  is  of  the  kind  which 
would  spring  up  anywhere,  quite  independently  of  tradi- 
tion or  borrowing;  hence  it  is  found  the  world  over. 
That  ideas  of  the  kind  may  be  common,  yet  not  in 
common,  nor  yet  uncommon,  is  shown  by  the  resemblance 
of  the  remark  of  the  friar : 

"  Give  him  a  drink  and  he  never  will  die," — 

which  was  as  much  as  to  say  that  inebriation  would  cause 
him  to  forget  his  execution — to  a  verse  of  a  song  in 
"JackSheppard": 

"  For  nothing  so  calms, 
Our  dolorous  qualms, 

And  nothing  the  transit  to  Tyburn  beguiles, 
So  well  as  a  drink  from  the  bowl  of  Saint  Giles." 

There  is  a  merrier  tale,  however,  of  Santa  Maria 
Maggiore,  and  one  which  is  certainly  far  more  likely  to 
have  occurred  than  this  of  the  petrified  pater.  For  it  is 
told  in  the  ancient  Facetia  that  a  certain  Florentine  noble- 
man, who  was  a  jolly  and  reckless  cavalier,  had  a  wife 
who,  for  all  her  beauty,  was  bisbetica  e  cattiva,  capricious 
and  spiteful,  malicious  and  mischievous,  a  daughter  of  the 
devil,  if  there  ever  was  one,  who,  like  all  those  of  her 
kind,  was  very  devout,  and  went  every  day  to  confession 
in  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  where  she  confessed  not  only 
her  own  sins,  but  also  those  of  all  her  neighbours.  And 
as  she  dwelt  with  vast  eloquence  on  the  great  wickedness 
of  her  husband — having  a  tongue  which  would  serve  to 
sweep  out  an  oven,  or  even  a  worse  place1 — the  priest 

1  Ha  tanta  lingua  che  spazzarebbe  un  forno,  b  un  cesso.  Said  of  virulent 
gossips. 


THE  FRIAR'S  HEAD  OF  SANTA  MARIA  MAGGIORE     151 

one  day  urged  the  husband  to  come  to  confession,  think- 
ing that  it  might  lead  to  more  harmony  between  the 
married  couple.  With  which  he  complied ;  but  when  the 
priest  asked  him  to  tell  what  sins  he  had  committed,  the 
cavalier  answered,  "  There  is  no  need  of  it,  Padre ;  you 
have  heard  them  all  from  my  wife  many  a  time  and  oft, 
and  with  them  a  hundred  times  as  many  which  I  never 
dreamed  of  committing — including  those  of  all  Florence." 
It  was  in  the  first  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore, 
which  stood  on  the  site  of  the  present,  that  San  Zenobio 
in  the  fourth  century  had  walled  into  the  high  altar  an 
inestimable  gift  which  he  had  received  from  the  Pope. 
This  was  "  the  two  bodies  of  the  glorious  martyrs  Abdon 
and  Sennen,  who  had  been  thrown  unto  wild  beasts, 
which  would  not  touch  them,  whereupon  they  were  put 
to  death  by  swords  in  the  hands  of  viler  human  beasts." 
I  may  remark  by  the  way,  adds  the  observant  Flaxius, 
that  relics  have  of  late  somewhat  lost  their  value  in 
Florence.  I  saw  not  long  ago  for  sale  a  very  large 
silver  casket,  stuffed  full  of  the  remains  of  the  holiest 
saints,  and  the  certificates  of  their  authenticity,  and  I 
was  offered  the  whole  for  the  value  of  the  silver  in  the 
casket — the  relics  being  generously  thrown  in !  And 
truly  the  mass  of  old  bones,  clay,  splinters,  nails,  rags 
with  blood,  bits  of  wood,  dried-up  eyes,  et  cetera,  was 
precisely  like  the  Voodoo-box  or  conjuring  bag  of  an  old 
darkey  in  the  United  States.  But  then  the  latter  was 
heathen !  "  That  is  a  very  different  matter." 


BIANCONE,  THE  GIANT  STATUE  IN  THE 
SIGNORIA 

"  Fons  Florentinus. — In  foro  lympidas  aquas  fons  effundit  marmoreis 
figuris  Neptuni  et  Faunorum  ab  Amanate  confectis." — Templum  Naturae 
Historicum.  HENRICI  KORNMANNI,  A.D.  1614. 

THE  most  striking  object  in  the  most  remarkable  part  of 
Florence  is  the  colossal  marble  Neptune  in  the  Fountain 
of  the  Signoria,  by  Ammanati,  dating  from  1575.  He 
stands  in  a  kind  of  car  or  box,  drawn  by  horses  which 
Murray  declares  "are  exceedingly  spirited."  They  are 
indeed  more  so  than  he  imagined,  for  according  to  popular 
belief,  when  the  spirit  seizes  them  and  their  driver,  and 
the  bronze  statues  round  them,  they  all  go  careering  off 
like  mad  beings  over  the  congenial  Arno,  and  even  on 
to  the  Mediterranean !  That  is  to  say,  that  they  did  so 
on  a  time,  till  they  were  all  petrified  with  their  driver  in 
the  instant  when  they  were  bounding  like  the  billows, 
which  are  typified  by  white  horses. 

Neptune  has,  however,  lost  his  name  for  the  multitude, 
who  simply  call  him  the  Biancone,  or  Great  White  Man ; 
and  this  is  the  legend  (given  to  me  in  writing  by  a  witch), 
by  which  he  is  popularly  known : 

BIANCONE,  THE  GOD  OF  THE  ARNO. 

"Biancone  was  a  great  and  potent  man,  held  in  great 
respect  for  his  grandeur  and  manly  presence,  a  being  of 
tremendous  strength,  and  the  true  type  of  a  magician,1  he 

1  Mago,  which,  like  magus,  implies  more  dignity  than  magician  or 
sorcerer. 

152 


BIANCONB  153 

being  a  wizard  indeed.  In  those  days  there  was  much  water 
in  the  Arno,1  and  Biancone  passed  over  it  in  his  car. 

"  There  was  then  in  the  Arno  a  witch,  a  beautiful  girl,  the 
vera  dea  or  true  goddess  of  the  river,  in  the  form  of  an  eel. 
And  Biancone  rinding  this  fish  every  day  as  he  drove  forth  in 
his  chariot,  spurned  it  away  con  cattivo  garbo — with  an  ill 
grace.  And  one  day  when  he  had  done  this  more  contemp- 
tuously than  usual,  the  eel  in  a  rage  declared  she  would  be 
revenged,  and  sent  to  him  a  smaller  eel.  But  Biancone 
crushed  its  head  (le  stiaccio  il  chapo). 

"  Then  the  eel  appeared  with  a  little  branch  of  olive  with 
berries,  and  said : 

"  '  Entro  in  questa  carozza, 
Dove  si  trove  I'uomo, 
L'uomo  il  piu  potente, 
Che  da  tutti  e  temuto  ; 
Ed  e  un  uomo  grande, 
E  grande,  e  ben  vero  ; 
Ma  il  gran  dio  del  Arno, 
II  potente  Biancone, 
Non  sara  il  solo  potente  ; 
Vi  sara  una  piccola  pesce, 
Una  piccola  anguilla ; 
Benche  piccola  la  sia  ; 
Fara  vedere  la  sua  potenza 
Tu  Biancone,  a  mi, 
Le  magie,  e  siei  mezzo  stregone 

10  una  piccola  anguillina, 
Sono  una  vera  fata, 

E  sono  la  Fata  dell  Arno, 
Tu  credevi  d'essere 

11  solo  dio  d'Arno, 
Ma  ci,  no,  io  che  sono 
La  regina,  e  la  vera, 
Vera  dea  qui  del  Arno.' 

"  '  Lo,  I  enter  in  this  chariot  I 

Where  I  find  the  man  of  power, 
Who  is  feared  by  all  before  him, 
And  he  is  a  mighty  being, 
Great  he  is,  there's  no  denying  ; 
But  the  great  god  of  the  Arno, 
The  so  powerful  Biancone, 
Is  not  all  alone  in  power ; 
There's  a  little  fish  or  eel,  who, 

1  "  The  Mugnone,  whose  course  has  been  shifted  to  the  west,  formerly 
flowed  into  the  Arno  through  the  heart  of  the  city." — Murray' 's  Handbook 
for  Travellers  in  Central  Italy. 


154  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Though  but  little,  has  the  power, 

Mighty  man,  to  make  thee  tremble  ! 

Biancone,  thou  art  only 

Unto  me  as  half  a  wizard  ; 

I,  a  little  eel  of  the  Arno, 

Am  the  fairy  of  the  river  ; 

Thou  didst  deem  thyself  its  ruler  ; 

I  deny  it — for  I  only 

Am  the  queen  and  the  true  goddess — 
The  true  goddess  of  the  Arno.' 

"  Having  said  this,  she  touched  with  the  twig  of  olive  the 
little  eel  whom  Biancone  had  killed,  and  repeated  while 
touching  it : 

"  'Anguillina  che  dal  Grande 
Siei  stata  stiacciata, 
lo  con  questo  ramoscello 
Ti  faccio  in  vita  torn  are, 
E  al  Grande,  io,  del  Arno 
Tutto  il  mio  pensiero, 
Tutto  posso  raccontare.' 

"  '  I,  little  eel,  who  by  the  mighty 
Man  hast  been  to  death  delivered, 
Do  call  thee  back  unto  the  living  ! 
Wake  thee  with  this  twig  of  olive  ! 
Now  unto  this  Biancone, 
Thou  who  art  too  of  the  Arno, 
Shalt  speak  out  thy  mind  and  freely.' 

"Then  the  little  eel,  resuscitated  and  influenced  by  the 
goddess  of  the  Arno,  said  : 

' ' '  Biancone,  tu  che  siei 

II  potente  dio  dell'  Arno, 
L'anguilla  discacciata, 
Che  tu  ai  discacciata, 

E  di  te  inamorata, 
E  di  te  piu  potente, 
E  se  tu  la  discaccerai, 
Ti  giura  la  vendetta, 
E  si  vendichera.  .  .  .' 

"  '  Biancone,  Biancone  ! 

Thou  great  spirit  of  the  Arno, 
Lo,  the  eel  by  thee  despised 
Turns  again  with  love  unto  thee  : 
She  surpasses  thee  in  power  ; 
If  she  is  by  thee  rejected, 
She  will  vow  revenge  upon  thee, 
And  will  be  avenged  truly.' 


BI  AN  CONE  155 

"  Biancone  replied : 

"  '  Io  non  voglio  amar  donne, 
Sia  pure  d'una  bellezza 
Da  fare  a  cecare, 
Ma  per  me  non  mi  fa  niente, 
Non  voglio  amare  donne, 
Sara  per  bellezza  una 
Gran  persona,  ma  non  vero, 
Per  potenza,  per  che  piii, 
Piu  potente  di  me  non 
Vi  e  alcun ' 

"  '  I  seek  not  the  love  of  women. 
Thou  art  of  a  dazzling  beauty  ; 
Unto  that  I  am  indifferent ; 
I  seek  not  the  love  of  ladies. 
Thou  may'st  be  full  great  in  beauty, 
Not  in  power,  for  in  power 
I  shall  ever  be  the  greater.' 

"  Then  the  eel  arose l  and  said  : 

"  '  Biancone,  or  guardami, 
Guarda  mi  bene  perche  piu, 
Non  mi  vedrai  vedermi, 
E  se  mi  vedrai, 
Non  mi  potrai  toccare, 
Dici  che  piu  potente 
Di  te  non  ce  nessuno, 
Ma  sa  io  la  prima, 
Mia  potenza  e  quella 
Di  vederti  inamorato, 
Di  me  vere  inamorato, 
Ma  che  ora  sono  io, 
Che  ti  discaccio  per  la  tua, 
Al  te  si  guardami  mi  vedi.' 

' ' '  Biancone,  now  regard  me, 

Look  well  at  me  now,  for  never, 
Wilt  thou  ever  more  behold  me, 
Or  if  thou  behold'st  me,  touch  me, 
And  thou  say'st  that  thou  hast  power, 
And  that  none  can  rival  with  thee. 
Thou  shalt  learn  that  I  am  stronger, 
For  I've  power  to  make  thee  love  me, 
But  'tis  I  who  now  reject  thee, 
If  thou  doubtest — now  behold  me  ! ' 

"And  then,  instead  of  an  eel,  appeared  a  maid  of  dazzling 

1  L'attgmffa  si  rizzo  in  piedi — "The  eel  rose  upon  her  feet."  This  will 
remind  the  reader  of  some  of  the  difficulties  experienced  by  Gothic  artists 
in  depicting  Eve  and  the  Serpent. 


156  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

beauty,  and  Biancone  sought  to  embrace  her,  but  could  not, 
and  said : 

"  '  Contentami  una  volta 
Sola,  o  dea  dell'  Arno  ; 
Lascia  che  ti  abbraci 
Una  volta  sola,  o  dea.' 

"  '  For  a  single  time  content  me, 
Lovely  goddess  of  the  Arno  ; 
Let  me  but  for  once  embrace  thee, 
Yield  to  me  I  pray,  O  fairy  ! ' 

"  But  the  goddess  of  the  Arno  replied  : 

"  '  Una  donna  piu  potente 
Di  te,  non  si  lascia 
Vincere  da  uno  superbo ; 
Tuo  pari  mi  basta  di 
Far  ti  vedere,  che  c'e 
Persona  ancora  di  te 
Piu  potente  .  .  .  Ora  io 
Mi  voglio  vendi  care  per  che, 
Tu  mi  ai  discacciata, 
Xante  volte,  ed  ora  invece 
Tu  saresti  bene  contento 
Di  abbraciarmi  anche, 
Anche  or  per  una  volta, 
Ma  no.     Addio  Biancone  ! ' 

"  '  A  woman  who  has  greater  power 

Than  thine  will  surely  not  be  conquered 
Merely  by  pride  in  outward  seeming, 
But  now,  in  brief,  I  will  content  me 
By  proving  mine  the  greater  power ; 
I  seek  to  avenge  myself  upon  thee, 
Since  of  old  thou  didst  despise  me 
Many  times,  but  now  wouldst  gladly, 
Though  it  were  but  for  once,  embrace  me  — 
Farewell  for  ever,  Biancone  ! ' 

"And  Biancone  fled,  but  he  always  bore  the  beautiful 
goddess  in  his  mind,  and  could  not  forget  her,  so  he  too 
meditated  a  vengeance. 

"But  the  vengeance  of  a  woman  strikes  more  powerfully 
than  that  of  a  man. 

"  One  day  when  Biancone  was  passing  over  the  Arno  in  his 
chariot,  with  all  his  attendants,  he  thought  he  saw  the  eel 
engaged  in  forming  the  basin  of  a  fountain  (vasca\  and  bear 
it  away  in  a  car,  she  herself  being  in  it,1  and  it  was  covered 

1  There  is  much  confusion  here.  It  appears  that  the  fairy  made  the 
fountain  now  in  the  Signoria,  and  that  Biancone  saw  this  in  a  vision. 


BIANCONE  157 

with  glass ;  but  in  the  time  that  he  thought  (or  dreamed)  that 
he  saw  this,  the  eel  appeared  and  said  : 

"  '  II  memento  della  mia  vendetta 
E  arrivato,  e  ti  giuro 
Giuro  che  la  mia  vendetta 
E  potente,  or  Turanna, 
Mia  regina  delle  Fate, 
E  dea  dell  Arno,  commanda 
Che  questa  carroza  sprafondi, 
E  che  tu  e  la  tua  servitu, 
Non  vi  potrete  salvare.' 

"  *  Now  the  time  to  wreak  my  vengeance 
Has  arrived,  and  I  swear  thee 
That  my  vengeance  shall  be  fearful, 
Very  great,  because  my  sovereign, 
Turanna,  queen  of  all  the  fairies, 
Orders  that  thy  chariot 
Shall  be  firmly  fixed  for  ever, 
And  that  thou  and  all  thy  following 
Never  more  canst  hope  for  rescue.' 

"  Then  she  sang  again  : 

"  '  Confine  i  tuoi  servitori, 
Quelli  che  ti  aiut  avanno 
A  discacciar  sui,  o 
Diventare  della  forma, 
Mezze  bestie,  mezzi  uomini, 
E  tu  o  Biancone, 
Che  tanto  grande  siei, 
Ti  confine  a  stare  sempre, 
Sempre  ritto  e  non  potrete 
Mai  ragionare,  ne  camminare 
Solo  quando  sara  luna, 
Luna  piena,  passero  io 
Ti  vedro,  e  mi  vedrai, 
Ma  parlarmi  non  potrai. 

"  '  Quando  sara  luna  piena, 
E  che  sara  una  notte, 
Che  sara  mezza  nuvola, 
E  mezza  serena  s'enderai, 
Delia  tua  carozza  nei, 
Nei  momenti  che  la  Luna 
Resta  sotto  le  nuvole, 
E  cosi  potrei  favellare, 
Con  tutte  le  statue,  che  ai 
Attorno,  allor  tua  carozza, 
E  col  mio  permesso  potrai 
Andare  anche  dai  tuoi  amici ! ' 


158  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  '  I  hereby  compel  thy  servants, 
Those  who  aided  thee,  to  vanish, 
Or  take  forms  half  brute,  half  human.1 
As  for  thee,  O  Biancone  ! 
Thou  who  art  so  tall  and  stately, 
Thou  shalt  stand  erect  for  ever, 
Without  power  to  speak  or  wander, 
Only  when  the  full  moon  shining 
Falls  upon  thee,  I  will  pass  thee, 
I  shall  see  thee  ;  thou  wilt  see  me, 
Without  power  to  address  me  ! 

"  '  When  the  moon  in  full  is  shining, 
Yet  when  clouds  begin  to  gather ; 
Half  in  light  and  half  in  darkness, 
Thou  may'st  only  in  the  moment 
When  the  moon  is  overclouded, 
Leave  thy  chariot,  and  have  converse 
With  the  statues  who  are  round  thee, 
Then  thou  may'st,  by  my  permission, 
Go  among  thy  friends,  then  only. '  " 

I  may  here  explain  to  the  reader  that  this  tale  with  its 
elaborate  invocations  is  not  current  as  here  given  among 
the  people.  Such  forms  and  formulas  are  confined  to  the 
witches,  who,  as  in  all  countries,  are  the  keepers  of 
mysterious  traditions.  All  that  is  generally  heard  as 
regards  this  subject  is,  that  when  the  full  moon  shines  on 
Biancone  at  midnight,  he  becomes  animated,  and  walks 
about  the  Signoria  conversing  with  the  other  statues. 

The  Neptune  was,  with  horses  and  all,  produced  by 
Bartolommeo  Ammanati  between  1564  and  1565.  It 
has  a  certain  merit  of  grandeur,  but  in  lesser  degree  is 
like  its  neighbour  Cacus,  by  Baccio  Bandinelli,  which 
Benvenuto  Cellini  justly  regarded  as  resembling  a  mere 
bag  of  fat.  When  Michael  Angelo  saw  the  Neptune  he 
exclaimed  :  "  Ammanato  !  Ammanato !  che  bel  blocco  che 
hai  sciupato ! " — "  Ammanato,  what  a  fine  block  of  marble 
thou  hast  spoiled ! " 

The  Italians  say  that  the  satyr  at  the  corner  of  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio  is  a  copy,  because  the  original  was  stolen 

1  This  refers  to  the  satyrs  who  are  among  the  bronze  figures  below 
Neptune. 


BIANCONE  159 

one  night  in  January  in  1821,  "and  is  now  one  of  the 
finest  bronzes  in  the  British  Museum  of  London."  It 
may  be  so ;  there  was  a  great  deal  of  fine  stealing  in 
those  days.  I  suspect,  however,  that  the  truth  is  that  as 
these  images  return  to  life  now  and  then,  the  satyr  availed 
himself  of  his  revivification  to  set  forth  on  his  travels, 
and  coming  to  London  and  finding  good  company  in  the 
British  Museum,  settled  down  there.  But  truly,  when  I 
think  of  the  wanton  and  heartless  destruction  of  beautiful 
and  valuable  old  relics  which  has  gone  on  of  late  years  in 
Florence,  to  no  earthly  purpose,  and  to  no  profit  what- 
ever, I  feel  as  if  all  the  tales  of  such  things  being  stolen 
or  sold  away  to  foreign  museums  were  supremely  silly, 
and  as  if  it  were  all  just  so  much  saved  from  ruin — in 
case  the  tales  are  true. 

"  Hczcfabula  docet"  wrote  Flaxius,  "  a  strange  lesson.  For 
as  it  was  anciently  forbidden  to  make  images,  because  it  was 
an  imitation  of  God's  work;  and  secondly,  because  men 
believed  that  spirits  would  enter  into  them — even  so  doth 
it  become  all  novel-writers,  romancers,  and  poets,  to  take 
good  heed  how  they  portray  satyrs,  free-love  nymphs,  and  all 
such  deviltry,  because  they  may  be  sure  that  into  these 
models  or  types  there  will  enter  many  a  youthful  soul,  who 
will  be  led  away  thereby  to  madness  and  ruin.  Which  is, 
I  take  it,  the  most  practical  explanation  for  commandment, 
which  hath  been  as  yet  set  conun  populo" 


THE  RED  GOBLIN  OF  THE  BARGELLO 

"  Lord  Foulis  in  his  castle  sat, 
And  beside  him  old  Red-cap  sly  ; 
4  Now  tell  me,  thou  sprite,  who  art  mickle  of  might, 
The  death  which  I  shall  die  ? '  " 

—SCOTT'S  Border  Minstrelsy. 

THE  Bargello  has  been  truly  described  as  one  of  the 
most  interesting  historical  monuments  of  Florence,  and  it 
is  a  very  picturesque  type  of  a  towered  mediaeval  palace. 
It  was  partly  burned  down  in  1322,  and  rebuilt  in  its 
present  form  by  Neri  di  Fioravanti,  after  which  it  served 
as  a  prison.  Restored,  or  modernised,  it  is  now  a 
museum.  As  I  conjectured,  there  was  some  strange 
legend  connected  with  it,  and  this  was  given  to  me  as 
follows : 

IL  FOLLETTO  Rosso. 

"  The  Red  Goblin  is  a  spirit  who  haunts  the  Bargello,  or 
was  there  of  old  in  the  prisons,  mile  carceri,  and  he  always 
foretold  to  every  prisoner  what  his  sentence  would  be  before 
it  was  pronounced. 

"  He  always  appeared  in  the  cell  of  the  condemned,  and 
first  lighting  a  candle,  showed  himself  all  clad  in  red,  and 
said  to  the  prisoner  : 

"  '  Piangi,  piangi,  ma  piangi  forte, 
E  prepararti  che  e  giunta 
L'ora  della  tua  morte.' 

"  *  Weep,  oh  weep  full  many  a  tear  ; 

Make  ready  ;  thy  hour  for  death  is  near.' 

"  Then  if  the  prisoner  replied  boldly  : 

"  '  Anima  chi  siei! 

Ti  prego  di  volermi  aiutare 
A  liberarmi  dalla  morte  ! ' 
»6o 


THE  RED  GOBLIN  OF  THE  BARGELLO          161 

"  'Spirit,  whoe'er  thou  be, 
I  beg  thee  now  for  aid  ; 
From  death  pray  set  me  free  1 ' 

"  Then  the  goblin  would  burst  into  a  laugh  and  say  : 

*' '  Non  piangere,  ridi,  ridi ! 
Ma  ride  sempre,  e  spera 
Che  io  ti  aiutera  ! ' 

"  But  if  the  prisoner  had  replied  badly,  or  cursed,  or  said 
*  Vai  al  diavolo  ! '  or  '  Che  il  diavolo  ti  porti  ! ' — then  there 
were  heard  dreadful  sounds,  such  as  frightened  all  the  prisoners 
and  assistants,  and  the  goblin  vanished  crying : 

"  '  Woe,  woe,  and  woe  to  thee  ! 
For  thou  soon  shall  punished  be  ; 


Away  be  led,  to  lose  your  headj 
There  is  no  hope  for  thee  ! ' 


"  And  after  that  the  man  might  well  despair.  Yet  the  Red 
Goblin  was  a  jolly  sprite  when  not  crossed,  and  made  great 
sport  for  the  prisoners,  who  all  knew  him.  He  went  into 
every  cell,  and  would  tell  wild  tales,  and  relate  to  every  one  all 
that  he,  the  prisoner,  had  done  since  he  was  a  boy,  and  how 
he  came  to  be  locked  up,  and  what  would  be  the  end  of  it, 
and  told  all  this  with  such  peals  of  laughter  that  the  most 
unhappy  were  fain  to  laugh  with  him. 

"Then  the  assistants  and  the  director  hearing  such  sounds, 
thought  it  was  the  prisoners  rioting,  but  could  not  detect 
them.1  And  the  spirit  relieved  many  innocent  men  from 
punishment,  and  especially  visited  those  condemned  to  wear 
the  iron  collar  or  gogna,  which  was  fastened  to  a  post,  but  at 
the  Bargello  it  was  on  the  Campanile  outside,  in  sight  of  all 
the  people.2 

"  Now  there  was  a  young  man  in  the  prison  who  was  good 
at  heart,  and  deeply  repented  that  he  had  done  wrong,  and 
now  feared  that  he  indeed  was  in  the  power  of  Satan,  and 
destined  to  be  in  prison  for  all  this  life  and  in  inferno  all  the 
next. 

"  And  when  he  was  thus  sunk  in  misery  one  night,  he  heard 
a  voice  call  to  him,  and  was  in  great  alarm,  but  it  said,  *  Fear 

1  I  here  omit  a  long,  detailed,  and  wearisome  account  of  the  research, 
which,  however,  indicates  the  accuracy  with  which  the  tradition  had  been 
preserved,  and  the  full  belief  in  it  of  the  narrator. 

3  A  kind  of  cruel  pillory. 

L 


1 62  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

not,  for  I  am  the  protecting  spirit  of  the  prisoners  in  the  Bar- 
gello, and  have  come  to  free  thee ;  put  thy  trust  in  me  and  I 
will  save  thee  ! ' 

"  Then  he  told  the  youth  how  he  was  to  act,  and  bade  him 
say  certain  things  when  examined,  and  follow  closely  all  the 
goblin  would  whisper  to  him ;  but  whether  it  was  his  fault  or 
his  failure,  he  missed  every  point  and  went  wrong  in  his  replies, 
the  end  being  that  he  was  condemned  to  prison  for  life.  Truly 
it  went  to  his  heart  to  think  that  while  he  lived  he  should 
always  see  the  sun  looking  like  a  chess-board,1  and  bitterly 
reflected  on  the  proverb  : 

"  '  Ne  a  torto  ne  a  ragione, 

Non  ti  lasciar  metter  prigione.' 

" '  Whether  you're  right  or  wrong,  my  man, 
Keep  out  of  prison  as  long  as  you  can.' 

"  But  it  went  most  bitterly  to  his  heart  to  think  that  he  had 
by  his  own  stupidity  and  want  of  study  lost  the  chance  of 
freedom.  And  for  some  time  the  Red  Goblin  never  came 
near  him.  But  at  last  the  prisoner  heard  him  call,  and  then 
the  spirit  said,  '  Now  thou  see'st  to  what  a  pass  thy  neglect  of 
my  advice  has  brought  thee.  Truly  il  diavolo  non  ti  tenterebbe 
—the  devil  takes  no  pains  to  tempt  such  a  fool  as  thou,  for  he 
knows  that  he  will  get  him  without  the  trouble  of  asking. 
And  yet  I  will  give  thee  one  more  chance,  and  this  time  be 
thou  wide  awake  and  remember  that  a  buona  volonta,  non 
manca  facoltd— where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way.' 

"  Now  there  was  a  great  lord  and  mighty  man  of  the  state 
who  had  been  in  the  Bargello,  and  greatly  comforted  by  the 
Red  Goblin,  who  now  went  unto  this  Signore,  speaking  so 
well  of  the  young  man  that  the  latter  ere  long  had  a  new  trial. 
And  this  time,  I  warrant  you,  he  studied  his  case  like  a  lawyer ; 
for  asino  punto,  convien  che  trotte — when  an  ass  is  goaded 
he  must  needs  trot — and  the  end  thereof  was  that  he  trotted 
out  of  prison,  and  thence  into  the  world,  and  having  learned 
repentance  as  well  as  the  art  of  watching  his  wits  and  turning 
them  to  account,  prospered  mightily,  and  to  his  dying  day 
never  forgot  to  pray  for  the  Red  Goblin  of  the  Bargello." 

There  have  been  other  spirits  which  haunted  prisons ; 
there  was  one  in  the  Bastile,  and  the  White  Ladies  of 

1  In  allusion  to  seeing  it  from  behind  the  squares  formed  by  the  grates 
of  iron  before  prison  windows. 


THE  RED  GOBLIN  OF  THE  BARGELLO          163 

Berlin  and  Parma  are  of  their  kind.  This  of  the  Bargcllo 
is  certainly  the  household  sprite  with  the  red  cap,  in  a  short 
shirt,  who  was  very  well  known  to  the  Etruscans  and 
Romans,  and  afterwards  to  the  Germans,  the  Lutin  of  the 
French  castles,  the  Robin  Goodfellow  of  England,  and 
the  Domovoy  of  the  Russians.  His  characteristics  are 
reckless  good  nature  mingled  with  mischief  and  revenge ; 
but  he  is  always,  when  not  thwarted,  at  heart  a  bon 
garden.  Of  the  Bargello  I  have  also  the  following  anec- 
dotes or  correlative  incidents : 

GIORGIO. 

"  Truly  I  will  not  swear  that  this  is  a  story  of  the  Bargello, 
for  I  am  very  particular  as  to  truth,  Signore,  but  I  will 
swear  that  'tis  of  a  prison  in  Florence,  and  that  when  it  hap- 
pened the  Bargello  was  the  only  prison  there.  And  it  runs 
thus :  Giorgio,  whoever  he  was,  had  killed  a  man,  and  as  the 
law  ran  in  his  case,  in  those  strange  days,  he  could  not  be 
executed  till  he  had  confessed  or  owned  the  deed.  And  he 
would  not  confess. 

"  Now  there  was  a  lawyer,  un  notaio^  b  chi  che  si  fosse  (or 
whoever  he  was),  who  declared  that  he  would  bring  to  pass 
with  a  trick  what  justice  had  not  been  able  to  do  with  torture. 
So  going  to  the  prison,  he  called  for  wine,  and  when  they  had 
drunk  deep  he  cried  heartily : 

"  '  Orsu,  Giorgio,  stiamo  un  poco  allegri,  cantiam  qualche  cosa ' 
— '  Come  now,  Giorgio,  let's  be  merry  and  sing  something  ! ' 

"  '  Come  ti  place* — '  As  you  please,'  quoth,Master  Giorgio. 
*  You  sing  one  line.' 

"  So  the  notary  began,  touching  a  lute  : 

"  '  Giorgi  ha  morto  1'huomo.' 
"  '  Giorgio  once  killed  a  man.' 

"  To  which  Giorgio,  who  was  sharp  as  a  razor,  added : 

"  '  Cosl  non  canta  Giorgio.' 

"  *  But  it  was  not  thus  that  Giorgio  sang.' 

"  So  it  passed  into  a  proverb,  meaning  as  much  as  Cosl  non 
dico  i0 — i  don't  say  that ;  or  Cosl  non  Vintendo  to — I  don't  see 


1 64  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

it  in  that  light.     And  so  the  notary  found  that  you  cannot  see 
Verona  from  the  top  of  every  hill. 

"And  there  is  another  story  of  a  prisoner,  who  had  long 
curling  hair  in  the  old  Florentine  style.  Hair,  Signore,  like 
charity,  may  cover  much  sin.  Now  this  man,  after  he  had 
been  a  while  in  the  Bargello,  got  his  sentence,  which  was  to 
have  his  ears  cropped  off.  But  when  the  boia  or  hangman 
came  to  do  the  job,  he  found  that  the  man  had  had  his  ears 
cut  off  smooth  long  before.  Whence  came  the  proverb  : 

"  (  Quel  che  havea  mozzi  gli  orecchi, 
E'ci  sara  de  gli  arreticati.' 

"  '  He  whose  ears  had  been  cut  away, 
Fooled  another,  or  so  they  say.' 

Which  is  a  proverb  to   this    day,   when   a   man   finds   that 
somebody  has  been  before  him. 

"  And  it  may  have  been  that  Donatello,  the  great  sculptor, 
was  in  the  Bargello  when  he  said,  '  E'rise  a  me  ed  to  riso  a  lui* 
— '  He  laughs  at  me,  and  I  do  laugh  at  him.'  Donatello  was 
in  quistione,  or  in  trouble  with  the  law,  and  in  prison,  for 
having  killed  one  of  his  pupils.  The  Marquis  di  Ferrara  asked 
him  if  he  was  guilty.  But  Donatello  had  already  received  from 
the  Marquis  a  license  to  slay  any  one  in  self-defence,  and  so 
he  made  that  answer." 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  BARGELLO. 

"  One  day  a  young  man,  who  had  been  gaming  and  lost, 
threw  some  dirt  at  an  image  of  the  Virgin  in  one  of  the  nume- 
rous shrines  in  the  city,  blaming  her  for  his  bad  luck.  He 
was  observed  by  a  boy,  who  reported  it  to  the  authorities,  and 
was  soon  arrested.  Having  confessed  that  he  did  it  in  a  rage 
at  having  lost,  he  was  hanged  the  same  night  from  one  of  the 
windows  of  the  Bargello."  x 

Thereby  adding  another  ghost  or  folletto  to  those  who 
already  haunt  the  place.  It  should  be  noted  that  according 
to  Italian  witch-lore  a  ghost  is  never  simply  the  spirit  of 
the  departed  as  he  was,  but  a  spirit  transformed.  A 
witch  becomes  a.  fata,  good  or  bad,  and  all  men  something 
more  than  they  were. 

1  Landucci,  233,  cited  by  Scaife. 


THE  RED  GOBLIN  OF  THE  BARGELLO  165 

Among  other  small  legends  or  tales  in  which  the  Bar- 
gello  is  referred  to,  I  find  the  following,  of  which  I  must 
first  mention  that  debito  in  Italian  means  not  only  debt 
but  duty,  and  that  fare  un  debito  is  not  only  to  get  into 
debt,  but  to  do  what  is  just,  upright,  and  honourable. 

"  It  happened  once,  long  ago,  that  a  certain  good  fellow 
was  being  escorted,  truly  not  by  a  guard  of  honour,  but  by 
several  bum-bailiffs,  to  the  Bargello,  and  met  a  friend  who 
asked  him  why  he  was  in  custody.  To  which  he  replied, 
'  Other  men  are  arrested  and  punished  for  crime  or  villainy, 
but  I  am  treated  thus  for  having  acted  honourably,  per  aver 
fat  to  il  debito  mio.' 

"  And  it  happened  to  this  same  man  that  after  he  had  been 
entertained  for  a  time  at  the  public  expense  in  that  gran 
albergo,  or  great  hotel,  the  Bargello,  that  the  Council  of  Eight, 
or  the  public  magistracy,  gave  him  a  hearing,  and  told  him 
that  he  must  promptly  pay  the  debt  which  he  owed,  which  was 
one  of  fifty  scitdi  or  crowns.  To  which  he  replied  that  he 
could  not.  Then  the  chief  of  the  Eight  said,  '  We  will  find 
out  a  way  to  make  you  pay  it,  be  sure  of  that.'  To  which  he 
answered,  '  DC  gratia,  Signore,  while  you  are  about  it,  then, 
make  it  a  hundred,  for  I  have  great  need  just  now  of  another 
fifty  crowns.' " 

Prisoners  in  the  Bargello,  as  elsewhere,  were  subject  to 
the  most  appalling  injustice  and  cruelty.  Thus  we  are 
told  of  Cosimo  di  Medici,  when  he  was  doing  all  in  his 
power  to  assassinate  or  poison  Piero  Strozzi,  that  he  was 
always  very  circumspect  as  regarded  the  venom,  "  and  did 
not  use  it  till  he  had  studied  the  effects  and  doses  on 
condemned  prisoners  in  the  Bargello."  But  "  condemned 
prisoners  "  here  means  doubtless  those  who  were  simply 
condemned  to  be  made  the  subjects  of  such  experiments, 
as  may  be  supposed,  when  we  learn  that  Cosimo  obtained 
the  recipe  of  making  up  a  poison  from  Messer  Apollino, 
secretary  of  Piero  Luigi,  by  torturing  him.  It  was  thus 
they  did  in  good  old  pious  times.  Poisoning,  as  a  most 
familiar  and  frequent  thing,  even  in  England,  did  not  pass 


166  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

out  of  practice,  even  in  politics,  until  that  great  beginning 
of  a  moral  era,  the  Reformation. 

" Hac  fabula  docet"  wrote  the  good  and  wise  Flaxius  on  the 
revise,  "  that  as  a  Zoccolone  friar  is  the  best  priest  for  a  peasant, 
so  even  a  buon  diavolo^  or  jolly  devil,  or  a  boon  blackguard 
who  knows  his  men,  is,  perhaps,  generally  the  best  guide  for 
certain  kinds  of  rough  sinners,  often  setting  them  aright  in 
life  where  a  holy  saint  would  be  inter  sacrem  et  saxum,  or 
in  despair.  As  for  poisoning,  I  fear  that  cup,  far  from  passing 
away,  is,  under  another  form,  passed  round  far  more  frequently 
now  than  it  ever  was.  For  Frangois  Villon  declared  that  lying 
gossip,  tittle-tattle,  and  second-hand  slander  were  worse  than 
poison  (which  simply  kills  the  body),  and  this  with  infinite 
refinement  prevails  far  more  in  modern  society  (being  aided 
by  newspapers)  than  it  ever  did  of  yore  anywhere.  This  is  the 
poison  of  the  present  day,  which  has  more  veneficce  to  spread  it 
than  the  Locustan  or  Borgian  venoms  ever  found.  Now  for 
a  merrier  tale  !  " 

"  If  all  that's  written,  talked  or  sunge 

Must  be  of  the  follies  of  menne, 
'Twere  better  that  no  one  moved  his  tongue, 
Or  that  none  could  use  a  penne. 

"  Jog  on,  jog  on  the  footpath- waye, 

And  cheerily  jump  the  stile  ; 

A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  daye, 

A  sad  one  tires  in  a  mile !  " 


LEGENDS  OF  SAN  LORENZO 

THE  CANON   AND  THE   DEBTOR,   AND  THE  CATS 
IN   THE  CLOISTER 

"  Pazienza,  paziendum  ! 
Disse  il  diavolo  a  Sant  Antonium." 

"  A  scratching  he  heard  and  a  horrible  groan, 
As  of  hundreds  of  cats  with  moll  rowing  and  moan  : 
'  Oh  ! '  said  he  to  himself,  '  sure  the  devil  is  come.' " 

— Mr.  Jones  and  the  Cats. 

THE  celebrated  Church  of  San  Lorenzo  is  a  grand 
museum  of  art,  even  among  the  many  of  its  kind  in 
Florence.  It  was  originally  a  Roman  Christian  basilica, 
built  by  the  matron  Giuliana,  which  edifice  was  con- 
secrated A.D.  373  by  Saint  Ambrose,  and  called  the 
Basilica  Ambrosiana.  It  was  partially  rebuilt  by  Brunel- 
leschi  in  1435,  and  completed  with  sad  alteration,  and 
finished  by  Antonio  Manetti.  As  is  well  known,  or  has 
been  made  known  by  many  great  poets,  it  contains  the 
grandest  statuary  by  Michael  Angelo  in  its  monuments  of 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici  and  his  uncle  Giuliano. 

This  church  served  as  a  sanctuary  in  the  olden  time, 
and  of  this  there  is  a  tale  told  in  the  old  collections  of 
facetiae,  which,  though  trifling,  is  worth  recalling  as  con- 
nected with  it. 

IL  DEBITORE. 

"  Messer  Paolo  dell'  Ottonaio,  a  Canon  of  San  Lorenzo  in 
Florence,  a  cheerful  and  facetious  man,  found  a  certain  citizen, 
one  of  his  friends,  who  had  taken  refuge  as  a  debtor  in  the 
church;  and  the  latter  stood  in  sorrowful  and  pensive  atti- 
tude, having  in  no  wise  the  appearance  of  one  who  had  found 


168  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

a  treasure,  or  who  was  going  to  be  married,  or  to  dine  with 
the  Duke,  or  anything  of  the  kind. 

"'Man,  what  aileth  thee?'  cried  the  Canon.  'Has  thy 
wife  beaten  thee,  or  the  cat  broken  thy  best  crockery,  or  thy 
favourite  housemaid  run  away  ? ' 

"  'What  I  have,'  replied  the  poor  man,  'is  ten  times  worse 
than  all  that  put  together.'  And  so,  havendo  caro  di  sfogarsi, 
being  glad  to  relieve  himself,  he  told  Messer  Paolo  all  his 
sorrows,  wailing  that  his  creditors,  having  taken  all  his  pro- 
perty, threatened  his  person,  swearing  that  they  would  put 
him  in  the  Stinche,  which  was  so  horrible  a  prison  that  it  was 
infamous  even  then  all  the  world  over  as  an  inferno  where 
every  one  confined  at  once  became  infermo,  or  a  hell  which 
made  men  ill,  and  that,  being  in  despair,  he  would  have  taken 
his  own  life  had  he  not  come  across  a  charming  book  on 
patience  which  had  consoled  him. 

"Messer  Paolo  asked  him  whether  the  creditors  had  been 
paid  in  full. 

"'Alas,  no!'  replied  the  debtor;  'not  one  half;  nor  will 
they  ever  get  the  rest,  for  I  have  naught.' 

"'In  that  case,'  answered  the  Canon,  'it  seems  to  me  that 
it  is  your  creditors  and  not  you  who  should  read  that  charming 
book,  since  it  is  evident  that,  as  they  are  to  have  nothing  till 
the  Greek  Kalends,  or  on  Saint  Never's  day,  that  they  must 
have  patience  whether  they  will  or  no.' 

"  Well,  as  the  saying  is,  Pazienza  vince  scienza  (Patience  beats 
knowledge),  and  Chi  ha  pazienza  vede  le  sue  vendette  (Wait  long 
enough  and  you'll  get  your  revenges),  the  Canon  got  for  the  poor 
man  money  enough  to  make  a  composition  with  his  creditors, 
and  he,  having  expectations  which  they  knew  not  of,  com- 
pounded with  them  for  five  per  cent.,  on  conditions  written, 
that  he  should  pay  all  up  '  as  he  earned  more  money.' 

"  And  so  he  was  set  free,  and  it  befell  on  a  day  that  some 
relation  died  and  left  him  a  fortune,  whereupon  his  creditors 
summoned  him  to  pay  his  old  debts,  which  he  refused  to  do. 
Then  they  cited  him  before  the  Council  as  a  fraudulent  debtor, 
but  he  replied  by  showing  his  quittance  or  agreement,  and 
declared  that  he  was  only  obliged  to  pay  out  of  his  earnings, 
and  that  he  had  inherited  his  money  and  not  earned  it. 
Whereupon  there  was  great  dispute,  and  one  of  the  creditors 
who  had  shown  himself  most  unfeeling  and  inhuman  protested 
that  to  get  money  in  any  way  whatever  was  to  guadagnare  (a 
gain  by  labour),  since  it  was  labour  even  to  put  it  in  one's 


LEGENDS  OF  SAN  LORENZO  169 

pocket.  Now,  this  man  had  a  handsome  wife,  who,  it  was 
generally  known,  greatly  enriched  her  husband  by  dishonour- 
ing him,  at  which  he  willingly  winked. 

"  Whereupon  the  debtor  asked  the  magistrate  if  an  ox  carried 
off  a  bundle  of  hay  on  his  horns,  which  had  by  chance  been 
stuck  into  it,  he  could  be  said  to  have  earned  it  by  honest 
labour  ?  At  which  there  was  such  a  roar  of  laughter,  and  so 
many  cries  of  '  No  !  no  !  no  ! '  that  the  court  went  no  further, 
and  acquitted  the  culprit." 

There  is  an  odd  bit  of  folklore  attached  to  this  church. 
As  may  be  supposed,  and  as  I  have  frequently  verified, 
"  the  idle  repetition  of  vain  words,"  as  the  heathen  do, 
or  prayers  in  a  language  which  people  do  not  under- 
stand, generally  lead  to  most  ridiculous  perversions  of 
the  unknown  tongue.  A  popular  specimen  of  this  is  the 
Salve  Regina  delle  Ciane  Florentine  di  San  Lorenzo,  or 
the  "  Salve  Regina  of  the  Florentine  women  of  the  lower 
class,  as  given  in  San  Lorenzo."  Ciana  is  given  by 
Barretti  as  a  specially  Florentine  word. 

LA  SALVE  REGINA. 

"  Sarvia  della  Regina,  dreco  la  Misericordia,  vita  d'un  cieco, 
spezia  nostra,  sarvia  tua,  te  chiamao  esule,  fili  e  vacche ! 

"  Ate  sospirao,  i'  gemeo  fetente  in  barca  e  lacrima  la  valle. 

"  L'  la  eggo  educata  nostra,  illons  in  tus. 

"  Misericordia  se'  cieli  e  in  ossi  e  coperte,  e  lesine  benedette, 
frutti,  ventri,  tubi,  novi,  posti  cocche,  esilio  e  tende  ! 

"  O  crema,  o  pia,  o  dorce  virgola  Maria  ! — Ammenne  !  " 

This  is  perfectly  in  the  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages,  of 
which  so  much  is  still  found  in  the  cheapest  popular 
Italian  literature.  I  have  elsewhere  mentioned  that  it 
was  long  before  the  Reformation,  when  the  Church  was 
at  the  height  of  her  power,  that  blasphemies,  travesties 
of  religious  services,  and  scathing  sarcasms  of  monkish 
life  reached  their  extreme,  and  were  never  equalled 
afterwards,  even  by  Protestant  satirists.  The  Epistolce 
Obscurorum  Virorum  of  Hiitten  and  Reuchlin  was  an 


i;o  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

avowed  caricature  by  an  enemy.  The  revelations  of  monk- 
ish life  by  Boccaccio,  Cintio,  Arlotto,  and  a  hundred  other 
good  Catholics,  were  a  thousand  times  more  damaging 
than  the  Epistol<z}  because  they  were  the  unconscious 
betrayals  of  friends. 

Since  writing  the  foregoing,  I  have  obtained  the  fol- 
lowing, entitled,  The  Pater  Noster  of  the  Country  People 
in  the  Old  Market,  or, 

IL  PATER  NOSTER  DEI  BECERI  DI  MERCATO. 

"  Pate  nostro  quisin  celi  sanctifice  tuore  nome  tumme ; 
avvenia  regno  tumme ;  fia  te  volunta  stua,  in  celo  en  terra. 

"Pane  nostro  cotediano  da  nobis  sodie,  e  dimitti  nobis 
debita  nostra,  sicutte  ette  nos  dimittimus  debitori  nostri,  sette 
ananossie  in  due  casse,  intenzione  sedie  nosse  e  mulo. — 
Amenne  ! " 

There  is,  however,  this  great  difference  in  the  two 
prayers  here  given,  that  the  Salve  Regina  is  intended 
for  a  jest,  while  the  paternoster  is  given  as  actually  taken 
down  from  a  ciana,  and  is  rather  a  specimen  of  dialect 
than  &jeu  d' esprit.  The  following  Ave  Maria  is  also 
serious,  and  simply  a  curiosity  of  language  : — 

L'AvE  MARIA. 

"  Avemmaria  grazia  piena,  dominb  teco  beneditta  e  frustris, 
e  mulieri  busse  e  benedetti  fruttus  ventris  tui  eiusse ! 

"  Santa  Maria  Materdei,  ora  pro  nobisse,  pecatoribusse, 
tinche,  tinona,  mortis  nostrisse. — Ammenne ! " 

These  specimens  of  Italianised  Latin  are  not  so 
grotesque  as  some  which  were  written  out  for  me  in  all 
seriousness  by  a  poor  woman.  A  specimen  of  the  latter 
is  given  in  my  work  on  "  Etruscan-Roman  Traditions." 

Last  of  all,  there  came  to  me  a  small  tale  of  little  value, 
save  that  it  professes  to  account  for  the  reason  why  so 
many  cats  have  ever  flourished  and  been  nourished  in 


LEGENDS  OF  SAN  LORENZO  171 

the  cloister  of  San  Lorenzo,  these  felines  being,  indeed, 
in  a  small  way  among  the  lions  of  Florence.  It  is  as 
follows : — 

I  GATTI  DI  SAN  LORENZO. 

"In  the  cloisters  of  San  Lorenzo  there  are  many  cats,  and 
every  evening  people  may  be  seen  who  go  there  to  feed  them, 
among  whom  are  many  old  men  and  women.  But  these  cats 
were  long  ago  themselves  human,  that  is  to  say,  they  were 
once  all  wizards  and  witches,  who  bear  their  present  form  for 
punishment  of  an  evil  deed. 

"There  was  once  a  very  wealthy  and  powerful  family  in 
Florence,  at  the  head  of  which  was  a  gentleman  and  lady  who 
had  an  only  daughter,  in  whom  was  all  their  love  and  hope. 
Among  their  servants  in  a  higher  position  was  an  old  woman, 
who  was  very  vindictive  and  easily  offended,  so  that  she  could 
brood  over  deadly  revenge  for  years  for  the  least  affront,  and 
she  fancied  she  had  a  great  many,  because  when  she  had 
neglected  her  duty  at  times  she  had  been  scolded  by  her 
mistress  or  master. 

"  Now  this  old  woman  knew  that  death  or  disaster  to  the 
daughter  would  drive  the  parents  mad ;  and  so  having  recourse 
to  witchcraft,  she  put  into  the  drink  of  the  young  lady  a  decoc- 
tion, the  result  of  which  was  that  she  began  to  waste  away, 
growing  weaker  and  paler,  without  feeling  any  pain. 

"  Then  her  parents,  in  great  fear,  consulted  the  best  physi- 
cians, who  did  no  good,  for  indeed  it  was  a  case  beyond  their 
skill.  And  at  last,  beginning  to  believe  that  there  was  some- 
thing unearthly  in  it  all,  they  sent  for  an  old  woman  who  cured 
by  occult  art.1  And  when  she  came  she  looked  steadily  at 
the  girl,  then  frowned  and  shook  her  head,  and  asked  for  a 
ribbon  or  cord,  no  matter  what,  so  that  it  were  one  which  the 
young  lady  had  worn  about  her  waist.  With  this  she  measured 
accurately  the  height  of  the  patient  from  head  to  foot,  and 
then  the  width  from  hand  to  hand,  it  being  desirous  that  the 
arms  be  of  equal  length ;  but  there  was  the  disproportion  of 
the  thickness  of  a  piece  of  money.  Then  the  witch  said  : 

"  *  This  is  none  of  my  affair  as  regards  the  cure.  Your 
daughter  is  bewitched,  and  I  can  indeed  make  the  witch 
appear,  but  to  beat  her  and  compel  her  to  remove  the  spell 
depends  on  you  alone.' 

1  Una  medichessa. 


172  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Now  they,  suspecting  the  old  servant,  sent  for  her,  but  she 
had  disappeared  and  could  not  be  found.  Then  the  doctress 
took  a  caldron,  and  put  into  it  hot  water  and  the  under- 
garments of  the  girl  and  certain  herbs,  and  boiled  them  all 
together,  singing  an  incantation,  and,  taking  a  knife,  shar- 
pened it  on  the  table,  whetting  it  on  the  chemise  of  the 
young  lady. 

"  Then  the  old  servant  woman  appeared  at  the  door,  against 
her  will,  forced  by  the  power  of  the  spell,  in  an  agony  of 
rage  and  bitterness ;  but  she  was  at  once  seized  and  beaten, 
whereupon  she  consented  to  unbewitch  the  girl,  who  speedily 
recovered. 

"  Now  Florence  was  at  that  time  fearfully  afflicted  with  evil 
witches,  who  defied  all  authority,  and  spread  disease  and  death 
far  and  wide;  but  this  affair  of  the  bewitched  lady  being 
made  known,  both  priests  and  laymen  rose  up  in  wrath, 
and  the  sorceress  fled  for  sanctuary  to  the  cloisters  of  San 
Lorenzo. 

"  Then  to  save  their  lives  the  Strege  made  a  compromise  with 
the  priests,  and  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  no  longer  live 
as  witches,  or  do  any  harm,  but  all  live  and  die  as  cats  in  the 
cloister,  where  they  should  be  regularly  fed,  and  exist  in  peace. 
Which  agreement  has  been  duly  carried  out  to  this  day,  and 
among  these  cats  are  many  who  were  once  witches  in  human 
form  hundreds  of  years  ago." 

This  narrative  is  not  so  much  a  story  as  an  account  of 
the  manner  in  which  bewitchment  is  undone  by  another 
witch.  The  reader  will  find  the  incantations  in  the  chap- 
ter entitled  "  The  Spell  of  the  Boiling  Clothes,"  in  my 
work  on  "  Etruscan- Roman  Remains."  One  of  the  most 
serious  riots  which  has  occurred  in  Milan  for  many  years 
took  place  March  3,  1891,  when  the  populace  tortured 
terribly  and  tried  to  kill  a  witch,  who  had,  it  was  believed, 
been  detected  by  this  spell. 

" Hcec  fabula  docet?  adds  the  wise  Flaxius,  "this  story 
suggests  a  reason  why  a  certain  kind  of  ladies  of  ecclesiastical 
proclivities  are  always  called  tabbies.  And  that  there  is  some- 
thing in  it  I  can  well  believe,  knowing  one  who,  when  she 
calls  her  rector  or  bishop  '  De-ar  man  ! '  does  so  in  a  manner 


LEGENDS  OF  SAN  LORENZO         17 3 

which  marvellously  suggests  the  purring  of  a  cat.  And  the 
manner  in  which  the  tabby  pounces  on  the  small  birds,  mice, 
and  gold-fish  of  others — i.e.,  their  peccadilloes,  and  small  pets 
or  pleasures,  which  in  good  faith  do  her  no  harm — seems  like 
literally  copying  the  feline — upon  line.  .  .  . 

"  Oh  !  ye  who  visit  the  cloister,  and  see  the  cats,  think  well 
on  this  legend,  and  especially  on  the  deep  identity  of  witches 
with  tabbies ! 

"  And  for  a  moral,  note  that,  with  all  their  sins,  what  the 
witches  and  cats  aimed  at  above  all  things  was^W,  with  which 
they  have  remained  content,  according  to  the  exquisite  lyric  by 
the  divine  Shelley,  p.  66 1,  Dowden's  edition: — 

"  *  This  poor  little  cat 

Only  wanted  a  rat, 
To  stuff  out  its  own  little  maw, 

And  it  were  as  good 

Some  people  had  such  food 
To  make  them  hold  their  jaiv?  " 


LEGEND  OF  THE  PIAZZA  SAN  B I  AGIO 

"  For  by  diabolical  art  he  assumed  varied  forms,  even  the  human,  and 
deceived  people  by  many  occult  tricks." — FROMANN,  Tractates  de  Fascina- 
tione,  1675. 

THIS  is  a  slight  tale  of  light  value,  and  not  new,  but  it 
has  assumed  local  colour,  and  may  amuse  the  reader. 

"  It  was  a  great  art  of  witches  and  sorcerers  of  old  to  give 
a  man  or  woman  by  art  the  appearance  of  another  person,  and 
this  they  called  '  drawing  white  lines  with  charcoal,'  and  there 
is  many  a  fine  tale  about  it.  Now  it  was  about  the  time  when 
Berta  spun  and  owls  wore  silk  cloaks  that  a  Signore  Nannin- 
cino  lived  in  the  old  Piazza  San  Biagio.  He  had  many  small 
possessions  in  Florence,  but  the  roast  chickens  of  the  supper, 
or  his  great  piece,  was  an  estate  in  the  country  called  the 
Mula  a  Quinto,  for  which  all  his  relations  longed,  like  wolves 
for  a  fat  sheep.  And  Nannincini,  being  sharp  to  a  keen  edge, 
and  knowing  how  to  lend  water  and  borrow  wine,  had  pro- 
mised this  estate  in  secret  to  everybody,  and  got  from  them 
many  a  gratification,  and  supped  and  dined  with  them  for 
years,  yet  after  this  died  without  leaving  a  will. 

"  Then  six  of  his  relations  assembled  and  resolved  to  secure 
the  property,  though  they  invoked  the  devil.  And  to  aid  them 
they  took  a  certain  scamp  named  Giano  di  Selva,  who  some- 
what resembled  the  departed  Nannincino,  and  he,  calling  in  a 
witch  of  his  acquaintance,  was  made  by  sorcery  to  look  as 
much  like  the  defunct  as  two  beads  of  the  same  rosary.  So 
Nannincino  was  removed  and  Giano  put  in  his  place,  where 
he  lay  still  for  an  hour,  and  then  began  to  show  signs  of  life. 
And  after  a  time  he  called  for  a  notary  and  began  to  make  his 
will.  First  he  left  a  house  to  one,  and  his  sword  to  another, 
and  so  on,  till  it  came  to  the  Mula  a  Quinto. 

"  '  And  who  shall  have  the  Mula  a  Quinto,  dear  good 
uncle  ? '  asked  a  nephew. 

174 


LEGEND  OF  THE  PIAZZA  SAN  BIAGIO          175 

" '  That,'  replied  the  dying  man,  '  I  leave  to  my  good  friend, 
the  only  true  friend  I  ever  had,  the  noblest  of  men — 

"  '  But  what  is  his  name  ? '  asked  the  nephew. 

"  '  Giano  di  Selva,'  gasped  the  dying  man.  And  it  was 
written  down  by  the  notary,  and  the  will  was  signed,  and  the 
signer  died  immediately  after.  All  their  shaking  could  not 
revive  him. 

"  The  tale  ends  with  these  words  :  E  cost  ingannati  git  in- 
gannatori,  rimase  Giano  herede  del podere — And  thus  the  biters 
being  bit,  d'ye  see,  Giano  took  a  handsome  property." 

"  And  does  his  ghost  still  promenade  the  palace  ?  " 

"  To  oblige  you,  Signore,  for  this  once— place  a  lei  il  coman- 
dare — it  does.  The  ghost  walks — always  when  the  rent  fails  to 
come  in,  and  there  is  no  money  in  the  treasury — cammina, 
cammina  per  un  fil  di  spada — walks  as  straight  as  an  acrobat 
on  a  rope.  But  I  cannot  give  you  a  walking  ghost  of  a  rascal 
to  every  house,  Signore.  If  all  the  knaves  who  made  fortunes 
by  trickery  were  to  take  to  haunting  our  houses  in  Florence, 
they  would  have  to  lie  ten  in  a  bed,  or  live  one  hundred  in  a 
room,  and  ghosts,  as  you  know,  love  to  be  alone.  Millegrazie, 
Signore  Carlo !  This  will  keep  our  ghost  from  walking  for  a 
week." 

"  Of  which  remark  here  made  that  '  the  ghost  doth  walk?  " 
comments  the  sage  Flaxius,  "  when  money  is  forbidden  unto 
man  (which  is  so  commonly  heard  in  theatrical  circles  when 
the  weekly  salary  is  not  paid),  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  comes 
from  the  many  ancient  legends  which  assign  a  jealous  guardian 
sprite  to  every  hoard.  And  thus  in  Spenser's  wondrous  *  Faerie 
Queene '  the  marvellous  stores  in  Mammon's  treasury,  *  em- 
bost  with  massy  gold  of  glorious  guifte,'  were  watched  by 

"  '  An  ugly  feend  more  fowle  than  dismall  day ; 

The  which  with  monstrous  stalk  behind  him  stept, 
And  ever  as  he  went  dew  watch  upon  him  kept.' 

"  The  which  quotation  is  in  its  turn  otherwise  curious  since  it 
gave,  I  doubt  not,  the  original  suggestion  to  Coleridge  of  the 
verse  wherein  mention  is  made  in  simile  of  one  who  walks  in 
fear  and  dread,  and  dares  not  turn  his  head — 

"  '  For  well  he  knows  a  griesly  fiend 
Doth  close  behind  him  tread.' 

"  '  More  or  less  accurately,  my  masters,  more  or  less.'  '  'Tis 
sixty  years  since ' — I  read  the  original" 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  PORT  A  SAN  GALLO 

ft  And  both  the  undying  fish  that  swim 
Through  Bowscale  Tarn  did  wait  on  him  : 
The  pair  were  servants  of  his  eye 
In  their  immortality ; 
They  moved  about  in  open  sight, 
To  and  fro,  for  his  delight." 

— WORDSWORTH,  Poems  of  the  Imagination. 

THE  reader  should  never  at  once  infer  that  a  legend  is 
recent  because  it  is  attached  to  a  new  place.  Spirits  and 
traditions  are  like  the  goblin  of  Norse  tale,  who  moved 
with  the  family.  The  family  changed  its  home  to  get 
rid  of  him,  but  on  the  way  the  elf  popped  his  head  out 
and  remarked,  "  Wi flatten  "  ("  We're  flitting  "  or  moving). 
The  ghost  of  Benjamin  Franklin  long  haunted  the  library 
which  he  had  founded  in  Philadelphia,  and  when  the 
library  or  books  were  transferred  to  a  new  building,  the 
ghost  went  with  them  and  his  statue.  And  in  like  manner 
the  legend  of  the  religious  person,  male  or  female,  who  is 
also  a  fish  has  travelled  over  many  lands,  till  it  came  to 
the  vasca  or  basin  of  the  Porto  San  Gallo.  Thus  Leonard 
Vair,  in  his  charming  Trots  Livres  des  Charmes,  Sorcelages 
ou  Enchantemens,  Paris,  1583,  tells  us  that  "  there  is  a 
cloister  in  Burgundy,  by  which  there  is  a  pond,  and  in 
this  pond  are  as  many  fish  as  there  be  monks  in  the 
cloister.  And  when  one  of  the  fish  swims  on  the  surface 
of  the  water  and  beats  with  its  tail,  then  one  of  the  monks 
is  ever  ill."  But  there  is  a  mass  of  early  Christian  or 
un-Christian  folklore  which  identifies  "  Catholic  clergy- 
women"  with  fish,  even  as  Quakers  are  identified  in 

Philadelphia  with  shad.     In  Germany  all  maids  just  in 

176 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  PORTA  SAN  GALLO        177 

their  teens  are  called  Backfisch,  that  is,  pan-fish  or 
fritureS)  from  their  youth  and  liveliness,  or  delicacy. 
We  may  read  in  Friedrich  that  the  fish  is  a  common 
Christian  symbol  of  immortality,  which  fully  accounts  for 
all  legends  of  certain  of  them  living  for  ever. 
The  story  which  I  have  to  tell  is  as  follows : — 

Lo  SPIRITO  BELLA  VASCA  BELLA  PORTA  SAN  GALLO. 

"  In  this  fountain-basin  is  found  a  pretty  little  fish,  which  is 
always  there,  and  which  no  one  can  catch,  because  it  always 
escapes  with  great  lestezza  or  agility. 

"And  this  is  the  queen  of  all  the  other  fish,  or  else  the 
Spirit  of  the  Fountain. 

"  This  spirit,  while  on  earth,  was  a  beautiful  girl  who  loved 
an  official,  and  he  fell  ill  and  was  in  the  military  hospital. 

"  The  parents  of  the  maid  opposed  her  marriage  with  this 
official,  though  he  was  so  much  in  love  with  her  that  it  and 
anxiety  had  made  him  ill.  Then  the  maid  became  a  nun  so 
that  she  might  be  near  him  in  illness,  and  nurse  him  in  his 
last  moments,  which  indeed  came  to  pass,  for  he  died,  nor  did 
she  long  survive  him. 

"  Then  her  mother,  who  had  magic  power  (essendo  stata  una 
fata  *),  regretted  having  opposed  her  daughter's  love  and  that 
of  the  young  man,  since  it  had  caused  the  death  of  both.  And 
to  amend  this  she  so  enchanted  them  that  by  night  both  became 
folletti  or  spirits  haunting  the  hospital,  while  by  day  the  maid 
becomes  a  little  fish  living  in  the  fountain.  But  when  seen  by 
night  she  appears  as  a  pretty  little  nun  (una  bella  monachina), 
and  goes  to  the  hospital  to  nurse  the  invalids,  for  which  she 
has,  indeed,  a  passion.  And  if  any  one  of  them  observes  her, 
he  feels  better,  but  in  that  instant  she  vanishes,  and  is  in  the 
arms  of  her  lover.  But  sometimes  it  happens  that  he  becomes 
jealous  of  a  patient,  and  then  he  vexes  the  poor  man  in  every 
way,  twitching  off  his  covering,  and  playing  him  all  kinds  of 
spiteful  tricks." 

It  is  otherwise  narrated,  in  a  more  consistent,  and 
certainly  more  traditionally  truthful  manner,  that  both 

1  Not  a  fairy  here,  but  a  witch  of  a  certain  degree. 

M 


i?8  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

the  lovers  are  fish  by  day  and  folletti  by  night.  This 
brings  the  legend  to  close  resemblance  with  the  un- 
dying fish  of  Bowscale  Tarn,  recorded  in  Wordsworth's 
beautiful  song  at  the  feast  of  Brougham  Castle  in 
the  "  Poems  of  the  Imagination." 

"'Tis  worth  noting,"  pens  the  observant  Flaxius  on  this, 
"that  in  days  of  yore  fish,  feminines,  and  fascination  were 
considered  so  inseparable  that  Dr.  Johannes  Christian  Fro- 
mann  wrote  a  chapter  on  this  mystical  trinity,  observing  that 
music  was,  as  an  attractor,  connected  with  them,  as  shown 
by  dolphins,  syrens,  Arions,  and  things  of  that  sort.  And  he 
quoted — yea,  in  the  holy  Latin  tongue — many  instances  of 
fishers  who  entice  their  finny  prey  by  playing  flutes  : 

"  <  Which  thing  I  doubted  till  I  saw  that  Doubt 

Pursued,  its  refutation  oft  begets, 
When  in  America  I  once  found  out 

That  shad  were  caught  by  means  of  castin'  nets ! ' " 


STORY  OF  THE  PODESTA   WHO  WAS  LONG 
ON  HIS  JOURNEY 

A   LEGEND  OF   THE  DUOMO 

"  Were  I  ten  times  as  tedious,  I  would  find  it  in  my  heart  to  bestow  it  all 
on  you." — Dogberry. 

THIS  little  tale  is  told  by  the  Florentine  Poggio,  who  was 
born  in  1380  and  died  in  1459,  yet  lived — in  his  well- 
known  Facezie.  But  as  it  ever  was  and  is  a  folk-story, 
independently  of  the  great  jester,  I  think  it  worthy  of  a 
place  in  this  collection. 

"There  was  once  a  podesth.  sent  from  Rome  to  govern 
Florence,  and  truly  he  was  of  that  kind  who  to  a  farthing's 
worth  of  sense  have  ten  ducats'  value  in  self-conceit;  for  if 
vanity  could  have  kept  a  man  warm,  he  never  would  have  had 
need  to  buy  blankets.  And  this  was  most  shown  in  his  belief 
that  he  was  a  great  orator,  though  he  was  so  intolerably  stupid 
and  slow  that  his  speeches  were  like  the  post-rider  of  Gior- 
dano, who  in  good  weather  sometimes  got  as  far  as  five 
miles  a  day. 

"  Now  he  was  to  be  inducted  into  office  in  the  Cathedral, 
in  the  presence  of  the  priori,  or  notables  of  the  city  of  Florence, 
and  so  begun  a  discourse  in  which  he  first  of  all  described 
how  great  a  man  he  had  been  as  senator  in  Rome,  and  what 
he  had  done,  and  what  everybody  else  connected  with  him 
had  done,  and  all  the  details  of  his  departure  from  the  Eternal 
City ;  and  then  depicted  a  banquet  given  to  him  at  Sutro,  and 
so  went  on,  telling  everything  about  everybody,  till,  after  several 
hours  of  terribly  tiresome  discourse,  he  had  got  no  farther 
than  Siena. 

"Now  by  this  time,  as  Poggio  words  it,  'This  excessive 
length  of  wearisome  narration  had  so  exhausted  his  auditors 
that  they  began  to  fear  that  the  entire  day  would  be  spent  on 

179 


I  So  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

the  road,'  and  at  last,  as  the  shades  of  night  began  to  fall,  one 
who  was  present  rose  and  said : 

"  '  Monsignore,  I  beg  you  to  remember  that  it  is  growing 
late,  and  you  must  really  get  on  a  little  faster  in  your  journey, 
for  if  you  are  not  in  Florence  to-day,  the  gates  will  be  shut, 
and  unless  you  get  here  in  time  you  will  not  be  allowed  to 
enter,  and  thus  you  will  miss  being  ordained,  and  cannot  enter 
on  your  office.' 

"Which  having  heard,  the  man  of  many  words  promptly 
concluded  his  speech  by  saying  that  he  was  really  in 
Florence." 

Southey,  in  "  The  Doctor,"  has  narrated  a  number  of 
instances  of  tedious  discourse,  but  none,  I  think,  quite 
equal  to  this. 

There  is  a  shadow  under  every  lamp,  a  devil's  chapel 
close  by  every  church,  and  even  of  the  venerable  and 
holy  Duomo  of  Florence  there  are  such  tales  as  the 
following : 

LA  MESSA  DE'  VILLANI. 

"  If  there  is  any  faith  to  be  put  in  old  stories  and  ancient 
books,  even  the  ladies  and  gentleman,  to  say  nothing  of  priests, 
used  such  language  in  their  ordinary  conversation,  in  good 
old  Medici  times,  as  would  not  be  heard  among  any  but  the 
lowest  people  now-a-days.  Well,  as  the  saying  is : 

"  '  Ne  di  tempo,  ne  di  Signoria, 
Non  ti  dar  malinconia.' 

"  '  Fret  not  thyself  for  time  long  past  away, 
For  weather,  nor  for  what  the  great  may  say.' 

"  Well,  it  happened  one  morning  in  Florence  that  a  gentil 
donna,  who,  I  take  it,  was  more  donna  than  truly  gentil,  what- 
ever her  rank  may  have  been,  meeting  at  the  door  of  the 
Duomo  a  very  ordinary  and  rough  figure  of  her  acquaintance, 
who  had  only  made  himself  look  more  vulgar  by  new  and 
gaudy  clothes,  asked  him  as  he  came  out : 
" '  Is  the  Cads'  Mass *  over  already  ? ' 
"  To  which  he,  in  nowise  put  out,  promptly  replied : 
"  '  Yes,  Madonna,  and  that  of  the  Demireps  is  just  going  to 

1  Si  la  Messa  de  Villani  era  finito. 


STORY  OF  THE  PODESTA  181 

begin ; l  only  hurry,  and  you'll  be  there  in  time  with  the  rest 
of  'em  ! ' 

"  And  that  lifted  him  to  celebrity,  for  in  those  famous  days 
a  small  joke  often  made  a  great  reputation.  Ah !  Signore — a 
great  many  of  us  have  been  born  into  this  world  four  hundred 
years  too  late — more's  the  pity !  However,  the  lady  learned 
the  truth  of  the  old  proverb,  '  Guardati  del  villan^  quando  ha 
la  camicia  bianca  ' — '  Look  out  for  a  vulgar  fellow  when  he  has 
a  clean  shirt  on,'  for  then  he  thinks  himself  fine  enough  to  say 
anything  saucy. 

"  And  there  is  yet  another  story  of  the  same  sort,  Signore ; 
indeed,  I  think  that  while  the  world  lasts  there  will  always  be  a 
few  of  them  left  for  steady  customers,  under  the  counter,  like 
smuggled  goods  in  Venice ;  and  it  is  this  :  It  befell  once  that 
a  Florentine  fell  in  love  with  a  lady,  who  was  like  her  mother, 
come  il  ramo  al  tronco  s\issomiglia — *  as  the  bough  to  the  tree, 
or  very  much  worse  than  she  ought  to  be ; '  for  the  dear  mamma 
was  like  the  Porta  San  Niccolo,  only  not  so  well  famed. 

"  However,  the  gentleman  wedded  her,  never  heeding  the 
proverb : 

"  '  Lei  every  wooer  be  afraid 
To  wed  a  maiden  not  a  maid  ; 
For  sooner  or  later,  as  'tis  said, 
She'll  turn  again  unto  her  trade.' 

"  However,  in  this  case  the  proverb  got  the  lie,  for  the  lady 
after  she  was  married  behaved  with  great  propriety,  and  yet 
was  often  reminded  that  she  had  better  have  repented  before 
she  sinned  than  after ;  for  many  would  not  speak  to  her,  for  all 
her  wealth,  till  she  was  well  convinced  that  Che  profitta 
ravedersi  dopo  il fatto  ? 

"  '  When  the  deed  has  once  been  done, 
What  is  the  use  of  repenting,  my  son  ? ' 

"  So  it  befell  one  morning  that  the  poor  soul  was  praying  in 
the  Cathedral  or  Duomo,  as  many  another  poor  sinner  had 
done  before  her  (doubtless  on  the  same  spot),  when  a  noble 
lady,  who  had  never  been  found  out  in  any  naughtiness  (some 
people  are  certainly  very  lucky  in  this  world,  Signore  Carlo  !), 
came  by,  and  seeing  the  penitent,  drew  in  her  robe,  turned  up 
her  nose,  and  retreated  as  if  the  other  had  the  plague.  To 
which  the  Magdalen  replied,  in  a  sad  but  firm  voice, '  Madonna, 

1  E  appunto  hora  comincia  quella  delle  puttane,  pero  caminale,  che 
farete  a  tempo  con  1'altre. 


1 82  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

you  need  not  be  afraid  to  touch  me,  for  I  assure  you  that 
the  malady  (of  which  I  have,  I  trust,  been  thoroughly  cured) 
attacks  none  save  those  who  wish  to  have  it.' " 

When  standing  in  the  Cathedral,  the  visitor  may  remem- 
ber that  here  Santo  Crescenzio,  who  died  in  424,  once 
wrought  a  miracle,  thus  recorded  in  his  "  Life "  of  the 
fourteenth  century: 

"A  poor  man  had  come  into  the  Cathedral  and  saw  no 
light  (i.e.t  was  blind),  and  going  to  where  Saint  Crescentius 
was,  implored  him  with  great  piety  that  he  would  cause  the 
light  to  return  unto  him.  And  being  moved  to  pity,  he  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross  in  the  eyes  of  the  blind  man,  and  incon- 
tinently the  light  was  restored  unto  him.  Saint  Crescentius 
did  not  wish  this  to  be  made  known,  and  pretended  to  know 
nothing  about  it,  but  he  could  not  conceal  such  miracles." 

Of  which  the  immortal  Flaxius  remarks,  that  "  it  is 
singular  that  so  many  saints  who  wished  to  keep  their 
miracles  unknown  had  not  the  forethought  to  make  silence 
a  condition  of  cure.  Also,  that  of  all  the  wonder-working 
once  effected  by  the  holy  men  of  the  Church,  the  only 
gift  now  remaining  to  them  is  the  miraculous  power  of 
changing  sons  and  daughters  into  nephews  and  nieces ; 
the  which,  as  I  am  assured,  is  still  as  flourishing  as  ever, 
and  permitted  as  a  proof  of  transubstantiation."  Thus  it 
is  that  simple  heretics  deride  holy  men.  And  Flaxius  is, 
I  bid  ye  note,  a  sinner,  in  whose  antique,  unsanctified 
derision  I  most  assuredly  do  take  no  part,  "  it  being  in 
bad  form  in  this  our  age  to  believe  or  disbelieve  in  any- 
thing," and  therefore  in  bad  style  to  laugh  at  aught. 

It  may  be  worth  recalling,  when  looking  out  on  the 
Cathedral  Square,  that  it  was  here  that  San  Zenobio  per- 
formed another  great  miracle,  recorded  in  all  his  lives, 
but  most  briefly  in  the  poetical  one : 

"  Then  did  he  raise  an  orphan  from  the  dead, 
The  only  son  of  a  poor  widow,  he, 
A  cart  with  oxen  passing  o'er  his  head, 
Died  in  the  Duomo  Square  in  misery  ; 


STORY  OF  THE  PODESTA  183 

But  though  all  crushed,  the  Saint  restored  his  life, 
And,  well  and  gay  and  bright  as  stars  do  shine, 
He  went  to  his  mother,  and  the  pious  wife 
Gave  thanks  to  God  for  mercy  all  divine." 

Which  being  witnessed,  says  the  Vita  San  Zenobii, 
all  who  were  present  began  to  sing,  "  Gloria  tibi  Domine 
qui  mirabilia  per  servos  tuos  in  nobis  operari  dignatus 
es,  gloria  sit  tibi-i  et  laus  in  scecu-la — sec-u-lo-o-o-rum, 
A-men. 

Which,  if  they  sung  it  as  I  heard  it  sung  yesterday  in 
the  Cathedral  of  Siena,  must  have  had  an  extremely  sopo- 
rific effect,  lulling  all  others  to  sleep,  and  causing  them  to 
see  beatific  visions  beyond  all  belief.  I  had  in  my  boy- 
hood a  teacher  named  Professor  Sears  C.  Walker,  who 
was  wont  to  tell  how  he  had  once  heard  in  a  rural  New 
England  village  a  church  congregation  sing : 

"  Before  thy  throne  the  angels  bow-wow-wow-ow  ! " 

But  to  hear  the  bow-wow  in  perfection,  one  must  go  to 
Rome.  A  pack  in  full  cry  or  a  chorus  of  owls  is  nothing 
to  it.  But  let  us  pass  on  to  a  fresh  story. 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BOBOLI  GARDENS:  THE 
OLD  GARDENER,  AND  THE  TWO  STATUES 
AND  THE  FAIRY 

"  He  found  such  strange  enchantment  there, 
In  that  garden  sweet  and  rare, 
Where  night  and  day 
The  nightingales  still  sing  their  roundelay, 
And  plashing  fountains  'neath  the  verdure  play, 
That  for  his  life  he  could  not  thence  away  ; 
And  even  yet,  though  he  hath  long  been  dead, 
'Tis  said  his  spirit  haunts  the  pleasant  shade." 

—  The  Ring  of  Charlemagne. 

A  GREAT  showman,  as  I  have  heard,  once  declared  that 
in  establishing  a  menagerie,  one  should  have  the  indis- 
pensable lion,  an  obligate  elephant,  a  requisite  tiger,  an 
essential  camel,  and  imperative  monkeys.  One  of  the 
"  indispensable  lions  "  of  Florence  is  the  Boboli  Gardens, 
joining  the  Pitti  Palace,  which,  from  their  careful  pre- 
servation in  their  original  condition,  give  an  admirable 
idea  of  what  gardens  were  like  in  an  age  when  far  more 
was  thought  of  them  than  now  as  places  of  habitual 
resort  and  enjoyment,  and  when  they  entered  into  all 
literature  and  life.  Abraham  a  Santa  Clara  once  wrote  a 
discourse  against  gardens,  as  making  life  too  happy  or 
simple,  basing  his  idea  on  the  fact  that  sin  originated  in 
the  Garden  of  Eden. 

The  Boboli  Gardens  were  planned  by  II  Tribolo  for 
Cosimo  di  Medici.  The  ground  which  they  occupy  is 
greatly  varied,  rising  high  in  some  places,  from  which 
very  beautiful  views  of  Florence,  with  its  "walls  and 

churches,  palaces  and  towers,"  may  be  seen.     Of  their 

184 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BOBOLI  GARDENS     185 

many  attractions  the  guide-book  remarks  poetically   in 
very  nearly  the  following  words  : — 

"  Its  long-embowered  walks,  like  lengthened  arbours, 
Are  well  adapted  to  the  summer's  sun  ; 
While  statues,  terraces,  and  vases  add 
Still  more  unto  its  splendour.     All  around 
We  see  attractive  statues,  and  of  these 
A  number  really  are  restored  antiques, 
And  many  by  good  artists  ;  best  of  all 
Are  four  by  mighty  Michel  Angelo, 
Made  for  the  second  Julius,  and  meant 
To  decorate  his  tomb.     You  see  them  at 
The  angles  of  the  grotto  opposite 
The  entrance  to  the  gardens.     Of  this  grot 
The  famous  Redi  sang  in  verse  grotesque  : 

"  Ye  satyrs,  in  a  trice 

Leave  your  low  jests  and  verses  rough  and  hobbly, 
And  bring  me  a  good  fragment  of  the  ice 
Kept  in  the  grotto  of  the  Garden  Boboli. 

With  nicks  and  picks 

Of  hammers  and  sticks, 

Disintegrate  it 

And  separate  it, 

Break  it  and  split  it, 

Splinter  and  slit  it  1 

Till  at  the  end  'tis  fairly  ground  and  rolled 
Into  the  finest  powder,  freezing  cold." 

There  are  also,  among  the  things  worth  seeing,  the 
Venus  by  Giovanni  of  Boulogne  (called  di  Bologna) ;  the 
Apollo  and  Ceres  by  Baccio  Bandinelli ;  the  group  of  Paris 
carrying  off  Helen  by  V.  de'  Rossi,  and  the  old  Roman 
fountain-bath  and  obelisk.  The  trees  and  flowers,  shrub- 
bery and  boschettij  are  charming ;  and  if  the  reader  often 
visits  them,  long  sitting  in  the  sylvan  shade  on  sunny 
days,  he  will  not  fail  to  feel  that  strange  enchantment 
which  seems  to  haunt  certain  places,  and  people  them 
with  dreams,  if  not  with  elves. 

The  fascination  of  these  dark  arbours  old,  and  of  the 
antique  gardens,  has  been  recognised  by  many  authors, 
and  there  are,  I  suppose,  few  visitors  to  Florence  who 
have  not  felt  it  and  recalled  it  years  after  in  distant  lands 
as  one  recalls  a  dream.  Therefore,  I  read  with  interest 


1 86  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

or  sympathy  the  following,  which,  though  amounting  to 
nothing  as  a  legend,  is  still  valuable  as  setting  forth  the 
fascination  of  the  place,  and  how  it  dates  even  from  him 
who  gave  the  Boboli  Gardens  their  name : 


IL  GIARDINO  BOBOLI. 

"  The  Boboli  Garden  is  the  most  beautiful  in  Europe. 

"  Boboli  was  the  name  of  the  farmer  who  cultivated  the 
land  before  it  was  bought  by  Cosimo  de'  Medici  and  his  wife 
Eleanora. 

"After  he  had  sold  the  property  he  remained  buried  in 
grief,  because  he  had  an  attachment  for  it  such  as  some  form 
for  a  dog  or  a  cat.  And  so  great  was  his  love  for  it  that  it 
never  left  his  mind,  nor  could  he  ever  say  amen  to  it ;  for  on 
whatever  subject  he  might  discourse,  it  always  came  in  like 
one  who  will  not  be  kept  out,  and  his  refrain  was,  'Well, 
you'll  see  that  my  place  will  become  il  nido  degli  amori  (the 
nest  of  loves),  and  I  myself  after  my  death  will  never  be 
absent  from  it.'  His  friends  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  think- 
ing so  much  of  it,  saying  that  he  would  end  by  being  lunatic, 
but  he  persevered  in  it  till  he  died. 

"  And  it  really  came  to  pass  as  he  said  ;  for  soon  after  his 
death,  and  ever  since,  many  have  on  moonlight  nights  seen 
his  spirit  occupied  in  working  in  the  gardens." 

The  story  is  a  pretty  one,  and  it  is  strangely  paralleled 
by  one  narrated  in  my  own  Memoirs  of  the  old  Pening- 
ton  mansion  in  Philadelphia,  the  gardens  of  which  were 
haunted  by  a  gentle  ghost,  a  lady  who  had  lived  there  in 
her  life,  and  who  was,  after  her  death,  often  seen  water- 
ing the  flowers  in  them  by  moonlight.  And  thus  do — 

fall 


"printless  footsteps  fal 
By  the  spots  they  loved  before." 


The  second  legend  which  I  recovered,  relating  to  the 
Boboli  Gardens,  is  as  follows : 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BOBOLI  GARDENS  187 


LE  DUE  STATUE  E  LA  NINFA. 

"There  are  in  the  Boboli  Gardens  two  statues  of  two 
imprisoned  kings,  and  it  is  said  that  every  night  a  beautiful 
fairy  of  the  grotto  clad  in  white  rises  from  the  water,  emerging 
perfectly  dry,  and  converses  with  the  captive  kings  for  one 
hour,  going  alternately  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  bearing 
mutual  messages,  and  then  returns  to  the  grotto,  gliding  over 
the  ground  without  touching  the  grass  with  her  feet,  and  after 
this  vanishes  in  the  water." 

"This  tale  is,  as  I  conceive,"  writes  the  observant  Flaxius, 
li  an  allegory,  or,  as  Petrus  Berchorius  would  have  called  it, 
a  moralisation,  the  marrow  whereof  is  as  follows :  The  two 
captive  kings  are  Labour  and  Capital,  who  have,  indeed,  been 
long  enchained,  evil  tongues  telling  each  that  the  other  was 
his  deadly  foe,  while  the  fairy  is  Wise  Reform,  who  passes  her 
time  in  consoling  and  reconciling  them.  And  it  shall  come 
to  pass  that  when  the  go-bet  weens  or  brokering  mischief-makers 
are  silenced,  then  the  kings  will  be  free  and  allied." 

"  Then  indeed,  as  you  may  see, 
All  the  world  will  happy  be  ! " 

Vivat  Sequenz  !     Now  for  the  next  story. 


HOW  LA  VIA  DELL  A  MOSCA  GOT  ITS  NAME 


"  Puer — abige  Muscas  !  " 

— Cicero  dc  Orat.,  60. 

THE  following  story  contains  no  new  or  original  elements, 
as  it  is  only  an  ordinary  tale  of  transformation  by  witch- 
craft, but  as  it  accounts  for  the  origin  of  the  name  of  a 
street  in  Florence  I  give  it  place : — 

LA  VIA  DELLA  MOSCA. 

"  This  is  the  way  that  the  Via  della  Mosca,  or  the  Street 
of  the  Fly,  got  its  name.  There  once  dwelt  in  it,  in  a  very  old 
house,  a  family  which,  while  of  rank,  were  not  very  wealthy, 
and  therefore  lived  in  a  retired  manner.  There  were  father, 
mother,  and  one  daughter,  who  was  wonderfully  beautiful — 
un  vero  occhio  di  sole. 

"  And  as  the  sun  hath  its  shadow,  so  there  was  a  living 
darkness  in  this  family  in  a  donna  di  servtzio,  a  servant  woman 
who  had  been  many  years  with  them,  who  had  a  daughter  of 
her  own,  who  was  also  a  beauty  of  a  kind,  but  as  dark  as  the 
other  was  fair ;  the  two  were  like  day  and  night,  and  as  they 
differed  in  face,  so  were  they  unlike  in  soul.  For  the  young 
signora  had  not  a  fault  in  her ;  she  would  not  have  caused  any 
one  pain  even  to  have  her  own  way  or  please  her  vanity,  and 
they  say  the  devil  will  drop  dead  whenever  he  shall  meet  with 
such  a  woman  as  that.  However,  he  never  met  with  this  young 
lady,  I  suppose,  because  he  is  living  yet.  And  the  young  lady 
was  so  gentle  of  heart  that  she  never  said  an  ill  word  of  any 
one,  while  the  maid  and  her  mother  never  opened  their  mouths 
save  for  gossip  and  slander.  And  she  was  so  occupied  with 
constant  charity,  and  caring  for  poor  children,  and  rinding 
work  for  poor  people,  that  she  never  thought  about  her  own 
beauty  at  all,  and  when  people  told  her  that  chi  nasce  bella. 


HOW  LA    VIA  DELLA  MOSCA  GOT  ITS  NAME     189 

nasce  maritata  (Whoever  is  born  pretty  is  born  to  be  married), 
she  would  reply,  '  Pretty  or  ugly,  there  are  things  more  impor- 
tant in  life  than  weddings.' 

"  And  so  far  did  she  carry  this,  that  she  gave  no  heed  at  all 
to  a  very  gallant  and  handsome  yet  good-hearted  honourable 
wealthy  young  gentleman  who  lived  in  a  palazzo  opposite,  and 
who,  from  watching  and  admiring  her,  had  ended  by  falling 
desperately  in  love.  So  he  made  a  proposal  of  marriage  to  her 
through  her  parents,  but  she  replied  (having  had  her  mind,  in 
truth,  on  other  things)  that  she  was  too  much  taken  up  with 
other  duties  to  properly  care  for  a  husband,  and  that  her  dowry 
was  not  sufficient  to  correspond  to  his  wealth,  however  generous 
he  might  be  in  dispensing  with  one.  And  as  she  was  as  firm 
and  determined  as  she  was  gentle  and  good,  she  resolutely 
kept  him  at  arm's  length.  But  firmness  is  nothing  against 
fate,  and  he  *  who  runs  away  with  nimble  feet,  in  the  war  of 
love  at  last  will  beat* l 

11  Now,  if  she  was  indifferent  to  the  young  signore,  the  dark 
maid-servant  was  not,  for  she  had  fallen  as  much  in  love  with 
him  as  an  evil,  selfish  nature  would  permit  her,  and  she  planned 
and  plotted  with  her  mother  by  night  and  by  day  to  bring 
about  what  she  desired.  Now,  the  old  woman,  unknown  to 
all,  was  a  witch,  as  all  wicked  women  really  are — they  rot 
away  with  vanity  and  self-will  and  evil  feelings  till  their  hearts 
are  like  tinder  or  gunpowder,  and  then  some  day  comes  a 
spark  of  the  devil's  fire,  and  they  flash  out  into  witches  of 
some  kind. 

"The  young  signore  had  a  great  love  for  boating  on  the 
Arno,  which  was  a  deeper  river  in  those  days ;  he  would  often 
pass  half  the  night  in  his  boat.  Now,  the  mother  and  daughter 
so  contrived  it  that  the  young  signorina  should  return  very  late 
on  a  certain  night  from  visiting  the  poor,  accompanied  by 
the  old  woman.  And  when  just  in  the  middle  of  the  Ponte 
Vecchio  the  mother  gave  a  whistle,  and  lo  !  there  came  a 
sudden  and  terrible  blast  of  wind,  which  lifted  up  the  young 
lady  and  whirled  her  over  the  bridge  into  the  rushing  river 
underneath. 

"  But,  as  fate  would  have  it,  the  young  man  was  in  his  boat 
just  below,  and  fortune  fell  down  to  him,  as  it  were,  from 
heaven ;  for  seeing  a  form  float  or  flit  past  him  in  the  water 
and  the  darkness,  he  caught  at  it  and  drew  it  into  the  boat, 

1  Nella  guerra  d'amor,  che  fugge  vince. 


190  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

and  truly  Pilate's  wife  was  not  so  astonished  when  the  roast 
capon  rose  up  in  the  dish  and  crowed  as  was  this  boatman  at 
finding  what  he  had  fished  up  out  of  the  stream. 

"  There  is  a  saying  of  a  very  unlucky  contrary  sort  of  man 
that  casco  in  Arno  ed  arse  (He  fell  in  the  Arno  and  burnt  him- 
self). But  in  this  case,  by  luck,  the  falling  of  the  young  lady 
into  the  river  caused  her  heart  to  burn  with  love,  for  so  bravely 
and  courteously  and  kindly  did  the  young  signore  behave,  con- 
veying her  promptly  home  without  a  sign  of  love-making  or 
hint  of  the  past,  that  she  began  to  reconsider  her  refusal,  and 
the  end  thereof  was  a  betrothal,  by  which  the  mother  and 
daughter  were  maddened  to  think  that  they  had  only  hastened 
and  aided  what  they  had  tried  to  prevent. 

"Now,  it  is  true  that  bad  people  put  ten  limes  as  much 
strong  will  and  hard  work  into  their  evil  acts  a.s  good  folk  do 
into  better  deeds,  because  the  latter  think  their  cause  will  help 
itself  along,  while  the  sinners  know  perfectly  well  that  they 
must  help  themselves  or  lose.  So  the  witch  only  persevered 
the  more,  and  at  last  she  hit  on  this  plan.  With  much  devilish 
ado  she  enchanted  a  comb  of  thorns,  so  that  whoever  was 
combed  with  it  would  turn  into  a  fly,  and  must  remain  one 
till  the  witch  bade  the  victim  assume  his  or  her  usual  form. 

"  Then  on  the  bridal  morn  the  old  woman  offered  to  comb 
out  the  long  golden  locks  of  the  young  lady,  and  she  did  so, 
no  other  person  being  present,  so  she  began  her  incantation  : 

"  '  Earthly  beauty  fade  away, 
Maiden's  form  no  longer  stay, 
For  a  fly  thou  shalt  become, 
And  as  a  busy  insect  hum, 
Hum — hum — brum — brum  ! 
Buzz-uz-uz  about  the  room  ! 

"  '  Ope  thine  eyes  and  spread  thy  wings, 
Pass  away  to  insect  things. 
Now  the  world  will  hate  thee  more 
Than  it  ever  loved  before 
When  it  hears  thy  ceaseless  hum, 
Buzz-uz-uz  about  the  room  ! ' 

"  And  hearing  this,  the  bride  sank  into  a  deep  sleep,  during 
which  she  changed  into  a  fly,  and  so  soared  up  to  the  ceiling 
and  about  the  room,  buzzing  indeed. 

"  Now,  with  all  her  cleverness,  the  witch  had  missed  a  stitch 
in  her  sorcery,  for  she  had  not  combed  hard  enough  to  draw 
blood,  being  afraid  to  wake  the  maid ;  hence  it  came  to  pass 


HOW  LA    VIA  DELL  A   MOSCA  GOT  ITS  NAME     191 

that  instead  of  a  small  common  fly  she  became  a  very  large 
and  exquisitely  beautiful  one,  with  a  head  like  gold,  a  silver 
body,  and  beautiful  blue  and  silver  wings  like  her  bridal  dress. 
And  she  was  not  confined  to  buzzing,  for  she  had  the  power 
to  sing  one  verse.  However,  when  the  change  took  place,  the 
old  woman  rushed  from  the  room  screaming  like  mad,  declar- 
ing that  her  young  mistress  was  a  witch  who  had  turned  into 
a  fly  as  soon  as  she  had  touched  her  with  a  consecrated  comb 
which  had  been  dipped  in  holy  water,  and  to  this  she  added 
many  lies,  as  that  a  witch  to  avoid  the  holy  sacrament  of 
marriage  always  changed  her  form,  and  that  she  had  always 
suspected  the  signorina  of  being  a  witch  ever  since  she  had 
seen  her  fly  in  the  wind  over  the  Arno  to  the  young  signore. 

"  But  when  they  went  to  look  at  the  fly,  and  found  it  so 
large  and  beautiful,  they  were  amazed,  nor  were  they  less 
astonished  when  they  heard  it  begin  to  buzz  with  a  most 
entrancing  strangely  sweet  sound,  and  then  sing  : — 

"  « Be  ye  not  amazed  that  I 
Am  enchanted  as  a  fly, 
Evil  witchcraft  was  around  me, 
Evil  witches'  spells  have  bound  me  : 
Now  I  am  a  fly  I  know, 
But  woe  to  her  who  made  me  so  ! ' 

"  And  when  the  young  signore  stretched  out  his  hand,  the 
fly  came  buzzing  with  joy  and  lighted  like  a  bird  on  his  finger, 
and  this  she  did  with  great  joy  whenever  any  of  the  poor  whom 
she  had  befriended  came  to  see  her,  and  so  she  behaved  to  all 
whom  she  had  loved.  And  when  it  was  observed  that  the 
fly  had  no  fear  of  holy  things,  but  seemed  to  love  them,  all 
believed  in  her  song. 

"  Till  one  day  the  young  signore,  calling  all  the  family  and 
friends  together,  said  :  '  This  is  certainly  true,  that  she  who  was 
to  have  been  my  wife  is  here,  turned  into  a  fly.  And  as  for 
her  being  a  witch,  ye  can  all  see  that  she  fears  neither  holy 
water  nor  a  crucifix.  But  I  believe  that  these  women  here, 
her  nurse  and  daughter,  have  filled  our  ears  with  lies,  and  that 
the  nurse  herself  is  the  sorceress  who  hath  done  the  evil  deed. 
Now,  I  propose  that  we  take  all  three,  the  fly,  the  mother,  and 
daughter,  and  hang  the  room  with  verbena,  which  I  have  pro- 
vided, and  sprinkle  the  three  with  much  holy  water,  all  of  us 
making  the  castagna  and  jettatura,  and  see  what  will  come 
of  it' 

"  Then  the  two  witches  began  to  scream  and  protest  in  a 


192  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

rage,  but  as  soon  as  they  opened  their  mouths,  holy  water  was 
dashed  into  their  faces,  whereat  they  howled  more  horribly 
than  ever,  and  at  last  promised,  if  their  lives  should  be  spared 
in  any  manner,  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  and  to  disenchant  the 
bride.  Which  they  forthwith  did. 

"  Then  those  present  seized  the  witches,  and  said :  '  Your 
lives  shall  indeed  be  spared,  but  it  is  only  just  that  ere  ye  go 
ye  shall  be  as  nicely  combed,  according  to  the  proverb  which 
says,  "Comb  me  and  I'll  comb  thee ! " ' 

"  Said  and  done,  but  the  combing  this  time  drew  blood,  and 
the  mother  and  daughter,  shrinking  smaller  and  smaller,  flew 
away  at  last  as  two  vile  carrion-flies  through  the  window. 

"  And  as  the  story  spread  about  Florence,  every  one  came 
to  see  the  house  where  this  had  happened,  and  so  it  was  that 
the  street  got  the  name  of  the  Via  della  Mosca  or  Fly  Lane." 

There  is  a  curious  point  in  this  story  well  worth  noting. 
In  it  the  sorceress  lulls  the  maiden  to  sleep  before  trans- 
forming her,  that  is,  causes  her  death  before  reviving  her 
with  a  comb  of  thorns.  Now,  the  thorn  is  a  deep  symbol 
of  death — naturally  enough  from  its  dagger-like  form — 
all  over  the  world  wherever  it  grows.  As  Schwenck 
writes : 

"In  the  Germanic  mythology  the  thorn  is  an  emblem  of 
death,  as  is  the  nearly  allied  long  and  deep  slumber — the  idea 
being  that  death  kills  with  a  sharp  instrument  which  is  called 
in  the  Edda  the  sleep-thorn,  which  belongs  to  Odin  the  god 
of  death.  It  also  occurs  as  a  person  in  the  Nibelungen  Lied 
as  Hogni,  Hagen,  'the  thorn  who  kills  Siegfried.'  The  tale 
of  Dornroschen  (the  sleeping  beauty),  owes  its  origin  to  the 
sleep-thorn,  which  is,  however,  derived  from  the  death-thorn, 
death  being  an  eternal  sleep." 

This  is  all  true,  and  sleep  is  like  death.  But  the  sooth- 
ing influence  of  a  comb  produces  sleep  quite  apart  from 
any  association  with  death. 

Apropos  of  flies,  there  is  a  saying,  which  is,  like  all 
new  or  eccentric  sayings,  or  old  and  odd  ones  revived, 
called  "  American."  It  is,  "  There  are  no  flies  on  him," 
or  more  vulgarly,  "  I  ain't  got  no  flies  on  me"  and  signi- 


HOW  LA    VIA  DEL  LA  MOSCA  GOT  ITS  NAME     193 

fies  that  the  person  thus  exempt  is  so  brisk  and  active, 
and  "  flies  round  "  at  such  a  rate,  that  no  insect  has  an 
opportunity  to  alight  on  him.  The  same  saying  occurs  in 
the  Proverbi  Italiani  of  Orlando  Pescetti,  Venice,  1618, 
Non  si  lascia  posar  le  mosche  addosso  (He  lets  no  flies 
light  on  him). 

When  I  was  a  small  boy  in  America,  the  general  teach- 
ing to  us  was  that  it  was  cruel  to  kill  flies,  and  I  have 
heard  it  illustrated  with  a  tale  of  an  utterly  depraved  little 
girl  of  three  years,  who,  addressing  a  poor  fly  which  was 
buzzing  in  the  window-pane,  said : 
"  Do  you  love  your  Dod,  'ittle  fy  ?  " 
"  Do  you  want  to  see  your  Dod,  'ittle  fy  ?  " 
"  Well  "  (with  a  vicious  jab  of  the  finger),  "you  SHALL !  " 
And  with  the  last  word  the  soul  of  the  fly  had  departed 
to  settle  its  accounts  in  another  world.     Writing  here  in 
Siena,  the  most  fly-accursed  or  Beelzebubbed   town  in 
Italy,  on  July  25th,  being  detained  by  illness,  I  love  that 
little  angel  of  a  girl,  and  think  with  utter  loathing  and 
contempt  of  dear  old  Uncle  Toby  and  his  "  Go — go,  poor 
fly !  "     True,  I  agree  with  him  to  his  second  "  go,"  but 
there  our  sentiments  diverge — the  reader  may  complete 
the  sentence  for  himself — out  of  Ernulphus  ! 

On  which  the  wise  Flaxius  comments  as  follows  on  the 
proof  with  his  red  pencil  : 

"It  hath  been  observed  by  the  learned  that  the  speed  of  a 
fly,  were  he  to  make  even  a  slight  effort  to  go  directly  onwards, 
would  be  from  seventy  to  eighty  miles  an  hour,  during  which 
transit  he  would  find  far  more  attractive  food,  pleasanter  places 
wherein  to  buzz  about,  and  more  beautiful  views  than  he  meets 
with  in  this  humble  room  of  mine,  wherein  I,  from  hour  to 
hour,  do  with  a  towel  rise  and  slay  his  kind.  Oh,  reader! 
how  many  men  there  are  who,  to  soaring  far  and  wide  in  life 
amid  honeyed  flowers  and  pleasant  places,  prefer  to  buzz  about 
in  short  flights  in  little  rooms  where  they  can  tease  some  one, 
and  defile  all  they  touch  as  domestic  gossips  do — but,  'tis 
enough  !  Mutato  nomine  de  te  fabula  narratur /" 

N 


THE  ROMAN  VASE 

A   LEGEND   OF   BELLOSGUARDO 

"  From  Tuscan  Bellosguardo 
Where  Galileo  stood  at  nights  to  take 
The  vision  of  the  stars,  we  have  found  it  hard," 
Gazing  upon  the  earth  and  heavens,  to  make 
A  choice  of  beauty." — ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING. 

BELLOSGUARDO  is  an  eminence  on  a  height,  crowned 
with  an  ancient,  castle-like  monastery,  from  which  there 
is  a  magnificent  view  of  Florence.  It  is  a  haunted 
legendary  spot ;  fate  and  witches  sweep  round  its  walls 
by  night,  while  the  cry  of  the  civetta  makes  music  for 
their  aerial  dance,  and  in  the  depths  of  the  hill  lie  buried 
mystic  treasures,  or  the  relics  of  mysterious  beings  of  the 
olden  time,  and  the  gnome  of  the  rocks  there  has  his 
dwelling  in  subterranean  caves.  Of  this  place  I  have 
the  following  legend  from  Maddalena : 

IL  VASO  ROMANO. 

"There  was,  long  ago,  in  the  time  of  Duke  Lorenzo  di 
Medici,  a  young  gardener,  who  was  handsome,  clever,  and 
learned  beyond  the  other  men  of  his  kind,  a  man  given  some- 
what to  witchcraft  and  mysteries  of  ancient  days,  for  he  had 
learned  Latin  of  the  monks  and  read  books  of  history. 

"  And  one  day  when  he  was  working  with  his  companions 
in  the  garden  of  Bellosguardo,  taking  out  stones,  they  came  to 
an  old  Roman  vase,  which  the  rest  would  fain  have  broken 
to  pieces  as  a  heathenish  and  foul  thing,  because  there  was 
carved  on  it  the  figure  of  a  beautiful  Pagan  goddess,  and  it 
was  full  of  the  ashes  of  some  dead  person.  But  the  young 
man  suddenly  felt  a  great  passion,  a  desire  to  possess  it,  and 

194 


THE  ROMAN  VASE  195 

it  seemed  as  if  something  said  to  him,  *  Con  questo  vaso  cti 
un  mister o? 


Mine  own  in  truth  that  vase  shall  ever  be, 
For  there  is  in  it  some  strange  mystery.' 


"  So  he  begged  for  it,  and  it  was  readily  granted  to  him. 
And  looking  at  it,  he  perceived  that  it  was  carved  of  fine 
marble,  and  that  the  figure  on  it  was  that  of  a  beautiful 
nymph,  or  a  Bellaria  flying  in  the  air,  and  there  came  from 
the  ashes  which  it  held  a  sweet  odour  of  some  perfume  which 
was  unknown  to  him.  Now  as  he  had,  sentito  ragionare  tanto 
difate,  heard  much  talk  of  supernatural  beings,  so  he  reflected  : 
'  Some/0fo  must  have  dwelt  here  in  days  of  old,  and  she  was 
here  buried,  and  this  vase  is  now  as  a  body  from  which  the 
spirit  freely  passes,  therefore  I  will  show  it  respect.' 

"  And  so  he  hung  round  the  neck  of  the  vase  a  wreath  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  fragrant  roses,  and  draped  a  veil  over 
it  to  shield  it  from  dust,  and  set  it  up  under  cover  in  his  own 
garden,  and  sang  to  it  as  follows : 

"  '  Vaso  !  o  mio  bel  vaso  ! 
Di  rose  ti  ho  con  tomato. 
La  rosa  e  un  bel  fior, 
Piii  bello  e  il  suo  odor." 

"  '  Vase,  oh  lovely  vase  of  mine  ! 
With  roses  I  thy  neck  entwine  ; 
The  rose  is  beautiful  in  bloom, 
More  beautiful  its  sweet  perfume, 
The  finest  rose  above  I  place, 
To  give  the  whole  a  crowning  grace, 
As  thou  dost  crown  my  dwelling-place 
Another  rose  I  hide  within, 
As  thou  so  long  hast  hidden  been, 
Since  Roman  life  in  thee  I  see, 
Rosa  Romana  thou  shall  be  ! 
And  ever  thus  be  called  by  me  ! 
And  as  the  rose  in  early  spring 
Rises  to  re-awakening, 
Be  it  in  garden,  fair,  or  plain, 
From  death  to  blooming  life  again, 
So  rise,  oh  fairy  of  the  flowers, 
And  seek  again  these  shady  bowers  ! 
Come  every  morning  to  command 
My  flowers,  and  with  thy  tiny  hand 
Curve  the  green  leaf  and  bend  the  bough, 
And  teach  the  blossoms  how  to  blow  ; 
But  while  you  give  them  living  care, 
Do  not  neglect  the  gardener ; 


196  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

And  as  he  saved  your  lovely  urn, 
I  pray  protect  him  too  in  turn, 
Even  as  I  this  veil  have  twined, 
To  guard  thee  from  the  sun  and  wind  : 
Oh,  Fairy  of  the  Vase — to  you, 
As  Queen  of  all  the  Fairies  too, 
And  Goddess  of  the  fairest  flowers 
In  earthly  fields  or  elfin  bowers, 
To  thee  with  earnest  heart  I  pray, 
Grant  me  such  favour  as  you  may.'1 

"  Then  he  saw  slowly  rising  from  the  vase,  little  by  little,  a 
beautiful  woman,  who  sang  : 

"  '  Tell  me  what  is  thy  desire, 

Oh  youth,  and  what  dost  thou  require  ? 

From  realms  afar  I  come  to  thee, 

For  thou  indeed  hast  summoned  me, 

With  such  sweet  love  and  gentleness, 

That  I  in  turn  thy  life  would  bless, 

And  aye  thy  fond  protectress  be. 

What  would'st  thou,  youth,  I  ask,  of  me  ? ' 

V  And  the  young  man  replied : 

"  '  Fair  lady,  at  a  glance  I  knew, 
Thy  urn  and  felt  thy  spirit  too, 
And  straight  the  yearning  through  me  sped, 
To  raise  thee  from  the  living  dead  ; 
I  felt  thy  spell  upon  my  brow, 
And  loved  thee  as  I  love  thee  now. 
Even  as  I  loved  unknown  before, 
And  so  shall  love  thee  evermore, 
And  happiness  enough  'twould  be 
If  thou  would'st  ever  live  with  me  ! ' 

"  Then  the  spirit  replied : 

"  '  A  debt  indeed  to  thee  I  owe, 
And  full  reward  will  I  bestow  ; 
The  roses  which  thou'st  given  me 
With  laurel  well  repaid  shall  be  ; 
Without  thy  rose  I  had  not  risen 
Again  from  this  my  earthly  prison, 
And  as  it  raised  me  to  the  skies, 
So  by  the  laurel  thou  shalt  rise  ! ' 


1  Viene  tutte  le  mattine 
Colle  sue  belle  manine. 

Though  very  rude,  even  to  illiteracy  inform,  the  train  of  thought  is  here 
very  gracefully  managed  in  the  original. 


THE  ROMAN  VASE  197 

"  The  youth  answered  : 

"  '  Every  evening  at  thy  shrine 
Fresh  roses,  lady,  I  will  twine  ; 
But  tell  me  next  what  'tis  for  fate 
That  I  must  do,  or  what  await  ? ' 

"  The  fairy  sang  : 

"  '  A  mighty  mission,  youth,  indeed 

Hast  thou  to  fill,  and  that  with  speed, 
Since  it  depends  on  thee  to  save 
All  Florence  from  a  yawning  grave, 
From  the  worst  form  of  blood  and  fire, 
And  sword  and  conflagration  dire. 
Thou  dost  the  Duke  Lorenzo  know  ; 
Straight  to  that  mighty  leader  go  ! 
The  Chieftain  of  the  Medici, 
And  tell  him  what  I  tell  to  thee, 
That  he  is  compassed  all  about 
With  armed  enemies  without, 
Who  soon  will  bold  attack  begin, 
Linked  to  conspiracy  within  ; 
And  bid  him  ere  the  two  have  crossed, 
To  rise  in  strength  or  all  is  lost, 
Ring  loud  the  storm-bell  in  alarms, 
Summon  all  Florence  straight  to  arms : 
Lorenzo  knows  well  what  to  do. 
Take  thou  thy  sword  and  battle  too  ! 
And  in  the  fray  I'll  look  to  thee : 
Go  forth,  my  friend,  to  victory.' 

"  Then  the  young  man  went  to  the  Duke  Lorenzo,  and  told 
him,  with  words  of  fire  which  bore  conviction,  of  the  great 
peril  which  threatened  him.  Then  there  was  indeed  alarming 
and  arming,  and  a  terrible  battle  all  night  long,  in  which  the 
young  man  fought  bravely,  having  been  made  captain  of  a 
company  which  turned  the  fight.  And  the  Grand  Duke,  im- 
pressed by  his  genius  and  his  valour,  gave  him  an  immense 
reward. 

"  So  he  rose  in  life,  and  became  a  gran  signore,  and  one  of 
the  Council  in  Florence,  and  lord  of  Bellosguardo,  and  never 
neglected  to  twine  every  day  a  fresh  wreath  of  roses  round  the 
Roman  vase,  and  every  evening  he  was  visited  by  the  fairy. 
And  so  it  went  on  well  with  him  till  he  died,  and  after  that 
the  spirit  was  seen  no  more.  The  witches  say  that  the  vase 
is,  however,  somewhere  still  in  Florence,  and  that  while  it 
exists  the  city  will  prosper ;  but  to  call  the  fairy  again  it  must 
be  crowned  with  roses,  and  he  who  does  so  must  pronounce 
with  such  faith  as  the  gardener  had,  the  same  incantation." 


198  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

What  is  remarkable  in  the  original  text  of  this  tale  is 
the  rudeness  and  crudeness  of  the  language  in  which  it  is 
written,  which  is  indeed  so  great  that  its  real  spirit  or 
meaning  might  easily  escape  any  one  not  familiar  with 
such  composition.  But  I  believe  that  I  have  rendered  it 
very  faithfully. 

There  seems  to  be  that,  however,  in  Bellosguardo  which 
inspires  every  poet.  Two  of  the  most  beautiful  passages 
in  English  literature,  one  by  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning, 
and  another  by  Hawthorne,  describe  the  views  seen  from  it. 
The  castle  itself  is  deeply  impressed  on  my  memory,  for 
during  the  past  nine  months  I  have  never  once  raised 
my  eyes  from  the  table  where  I  write  without  beholding 
it  in  full  view  before  me  across  the  Arno,  even  as  I  behold 
it  now. 

I  cannot  help  observing  that  the  mysterious  sentiment 
which  seized  on  the  hero  of  this  tale  when  he  found  his 
virgin  relic,  was  marvellously  like  that  which  inspired 
Keats  when  he  addressed  his  Ode  to  a  Grecian  Urn : 

"  Thou  still  unravished  bride  of  quietness  ! 
Thou  foster-child  of  Silence  and  slow  Time, 
Sylvan  historian  who  canst  thus  express 
A  flowery  tale  more  sweetly  than  our  rhyme  : 
What  leaf-fringed  legend  haunts  about  thy  shape  ?  " 

That  which  I  have  here  given  is  truly  a  leaf-fringed 
legend,  for  it  is  bordered  with  the  petals  of  roses  and 
embalmed  with  their  perfume,  and  one  which  in  the  hands 
of  a  great  master  might  have  been  made  into  a  really 
beautiful  poem.  It  came  near  a  very  gay  rhymer  at 
least  in  the  Duke  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  whose  songs,  which 
were  a  little  more  than  free,  and  rather  more  loose  than 
easy,  were  the  delight  and  disgrace  of  his  time.  And  yet 
I  cannot  help  rejoicing  to  meet  this  magnificent  patron  of 
art  and  letters  at  so  late  a  day  in  a  purely  popular  tale. 
There  are  men  of  beauty  who  are  also  a  joy  for  ever,  as 
well  as  things,  and  Lorenzo  was  one  of  them. 


THE  ROMAN  VASE  199 

It  is  worth  noting  that  just  as  the  fairy  in  this  tale 
reveals  to  Lorenzo  that  Florence  is  threatened  by  enemies, 
just  so  it  happened  that  unto  Saint  Zenobio,  standing 
rapt  in  divine  contemplation  in  his  cavern,  it  was  an- 
nounced that  the  same  city  was  about  to  be  assailed  by 
cruel  barbarians,  who,  as  Sigbert  relates  in  his  Chronicle 
of  407  A.D.,  were  the  two  hundred  thousand  Goths  led  by 
Radagasio  into  Italy.  But  they  were  soon  driven  away 
by  the  Saint's  prayers  and  penitence.  It  would  be  curious 
if  one  legend  had  here  passed  into  another : 

"  So  visions  in  a  vision  live  again, 
And  dreams  in  dreams  are  wondrously  transfused  ; 
Gold  turning  into  grey  as  clouds  do  change, 
And  shifting  hues  as  they  assume  new  forms." 

Apropos  of  Saint  Zenobio  of  Florence,  I  will  here  give 
something  which  should  have  been  included  with  the 
legend  of  the  Croce  al  Trebbio,  but  which  I  obtained  too 
late  for  that  purpose.  It  would  appear  from  the  Iscrizioni 
e  Memorie  di  Firenze,  by  F.  Bigazzi  (1887),  that  the 
pillar  of  the  cross  was  really  erected  to  commemorate  a 
victory  over  heretics,  but  that  the  cross  itself  was  added 
by  the  Saints  Ambrosio  and  Zenobio,  "  on  account  of  a 
great  mystery" — which  mystery  is,  I  believe,  fully  ex- 
plained by  the  legend  which  I  have  given.  The  inscription 
when  complete  was  as  follows : 

SANCTUS    AMBROSIUS   CUM    SANCTO   ZENOBIO   PROPTER   GRANDE 

MISTERIUM 
HUNC   CRUCEM    HIC   LOCAVERUNT .  ET   IN    MCCCXXXVIII 

NOVITER    DIE 

10    AUGUSTI    RECONSECRATA   EST    P.  D.  M.    FRANCISC.    FLOR. 
EPISCOPUM    UNA    CUM    ALIIS    EPISCOPIS    M. 

A  slightly  different  reading  is  given  by  Brocchi  (  Vite 
cU?  Santi fiorentini,  1742). 


200  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Of  which  saint,  be  it  observed,"  writes  Flaxius,  "that  there 
is  in  England  a  very  large  and  widely  extended  family,  or 
stirps,  named  Snobs,  who  may  claim  that  by  affinity  of  name  to 
Zenobio  they  are  lineally  or  collaterally  his  descendants,  even 
as  the  Potts  profess  connection  with  Pozzo  del  Borgo.  But 
as  it  is  said  of  this  family  or  gens  that  they  are  famed  for 
laying  claim  to  every  shadow  of  a  shade  of  gentility,  it  may  be 
that  there  is  truly  no  Zenobility  about  them.  Truly  there  are 
a  great  many  more  people  in  this  world  who  are  proud  of  their 
ancestors,  than  there  ever  were  ancestors  who  would  have  been 
proud  of  them.  The  number  of  whom  is  as  the  sands  of  the 
sea,  or  as  Heine  says,  '  more  correctly  speaking,  as  the  mud 
on  the  shore.' 

"  '  The  which,  more  eath  it  were  for  mortall  wight, 
To  sell  the  sands  or  count  the  starres  on  hye  ; 
Or  ought  more  hard,  then  thinke  to  reckon  right  .  .  . 
"Which — for  my  Muse  herselfe  now  tyred  has, 
Unto  another  tale  I'll  overpas.' " 


THE  UNFORTUNATE  PRIEST 

A   LEGEND  OF   LA   VIA  DELLO  SCHELETRO 

"  Fear  and  trembling  Hope, 
Silence  and  Foresight— Death  the  Skeleton, 
And  Time  the  Shadow." — WORDSWORTH. 

"  If  God  were  half  so  cruel  as  His  priests, 
It  would  go  hard,  I  ween,  with  all  of  us." 

I  HAVE  elsewhere  remarked  that  there  is — chiefly  about 
the  Duomo — a  group  of  small  streets  bearing  the  dismal 
names  of  Death,  Hell,  Purgatory,  Limbo,  Crucifixion, 
Our  Lady  of  Coughing  (delle  Tosse\  The  (last)  Rest  of 
Old  Age,  Gallows  Lane  (  Via  delta  Forca\  The  Tombs, 
The  Way  of  the  Discontented,1  Dire  Need,  Small  Rags, 
Fag- End  or  Stump,  Bad  Payers,  and  finally,  the  Via  dello 
Scheletro,  or  Skeleton  Street.  To  which  there  belongs,  as 
is  appropriate,  a  melancholy  legend. 

LA  VIA  DELLO  SCHELETRO, 

"  There  once  dwelt  in  what  is  now  called  the  Street  of  the 
Skeleton  a  priest  attached  to  the  Cathedral,  who  was  in  every 
respect  all  that  a  good  man  of  his  calling  and  a  true  Christian 
should  be,  as  he  was  pious,  kind-hearted,  and  charitable,  pass- 
ing his  life  in  seeking  out  the  poor  and  teaching  their  children, 
often  bringing  cases  of  need  and  suffering  to  the  knowledge 
of  wealthier  friends — which  thing,  were  it  more  frequently 
done  by  all,  would  do  more  to  put  an  end  to  poverty  than 
anything  else. 

1  So  called  because  criminals  passed  through  it  on  their  way  to  execu- 
tion. 


202  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  '  But  he  who  is  in  everything  most  human 
May  highest  rise  and  yet  the  lowest  fall ; 
And  when  a  brave  kind  heart  meets  with  the  woman, 
Our  greatest  duties  seem  extremely  small, 
And  those  which  were  the  first  became  the  least  : 
Even  so  it  happened  to  this  gentle  priest. 

"  '  In  the  old  dwelling  where  he  had  his  home, 
Which  otherwise  had  been  most  drear  and  dull 
At  morn  or  eve  did  oft  before  him  come 
A  girl  as  sweet  as  she  was  beautiful ; 
Full  soon  they  learned  that  both  in  head  and^heart 
Each  was  to  each  the  very  counterpart. 

"  '  There  is  in  every  soul  of  finer  grain 
A  soul  which  is  in  self  a  soul  apart, 
Which  to  itself  doth  oft  deep  hid  remain, 
But  leaps  to  life  when  Love  awakes  the  heart. 
Then  as  a  vapour  rises  with  the  sun, 
And  blends  with  it,  two  souls  pass  into  one. 

"  '  And  so  it  came  that  he  would  sometimes  kiss 
Her  lovely  face,  nor  seemed  it  much  to  prove 
That  they  in  anything  had  done  amiss. 
Until,  one  night,  there  came  the  kiss  of  Love,1 
Disguised  in  friendly  seeming  like  the  rest — 
Alas  !  he  drove  an  arrow  to  her  breast. 

"  '  Then  came  the  glow  of  passion — new  to  both — 
The  honeymoon  of  utter  recklessness, 
When  the  most  righteous  casts  away  his  oath, 
And  all  is  lost  in  sweet  forgetfulness, 
And  life  is  steeped  in  joy,  without,  within, 
And  rapture  seems  the  sweeter  for  the  sin. 

"  *  Then  came  in  its  due  course  the  sad  awaking 
To  life  and  its  grim  claims,  and  all  around 
They  found,  in  cold  grim  truth,  without  mistaking, 
These  claims  for  them  did  terribly  abound  ; 
And  the  poor  priest  was  brought  into  despair 
To  find  at  every  turn  a  foe  was  there. 

'"To  know  our  love  is  pure  though  passionate, 
And  have  it  judged  as  if  both  foul  and  base, 
Doth  seem  to  us  the  bitterness  of  fate  ; 
Yet  in  the  world  it  is  the  usual  case. 
By  it  all  priests  are  judged — yea,  every  one — 
Never  as  Jesus  would  Himself  have  done. 


1  "  Da  qualche  bacio 

Vi  chascha  il  vero  bacio  d'amor." 

— Original. 


THE  UNFORTUNATE  PRIEST  203 

"  '  Because  the  noblest  love  with  passion  rings, 
Therefore  men  cry  'tis  a!!  mere  sexual  sense, 
As  if  the  rose  and  the  dirt  from  which  it  springs 
Were  one  because  of  the  same  elements  : 
Therefore  'tis  true  that,  of  all  sins  accurst, 
Is  Gossip,  for  it  always  tells  the  worst. 

'"So  Gossip  did  its  worst  for  these  poor  souls. 
The  bishop  made  the  priest  appear  before  him, 
And,  as  a  power  who  destiny  controls, 
Informed  him  clearly  he  had  hell  before  him, 
And  if  he  would  preserve  the  priestly  stole,1 
Must  leave  his  woman — or  else  lose  his  soul  1 

"  '  Now  had  this  man  had  money,  or  if  he, 
Like  many  of  his  calling,  had  been  bold 
With  worldly  air,  then  all  this  misery 
Might  have  been  'scaped  as  one  escapes  the  cold 
By  putting  on  a  sheepskin,  warm  and  fine ; 
But  then  hypocrisy  was  not  his  line. 

"  '  His  love  was  now  a  mother,  and  the  truth 
Woke  in  him  such  a  deep  and  earnest  love, 
That  he  would  not  have  left  her  though  in  sooth 
He  had  been  summoned  by  the  Power  above  ; 
And  so  the  interdict  was  soon  applied, 
But  on  that  day  both  child  and  mother  died. 

"  '  She,  poor  weak  thing,  could  not  endure  the  strain, 
So  flickered  out,  and  all  within  a  day ; 
And  then  the  priest,  without  apparent  pain, 
Began  mysteriously  to  waste  away, 
And,  shadow-like  and  silent  as  a  mouse, 
Men  saw  him  steal  into,  or  from,  the  house. 

"  *  And  thinner  still  and  paler  yet  he  grew, 

With  every  day  some  life  from  him  seemed  gone, 
And  all  aghast,  though  living,  men  still  knew 
He  had  become  a  literal  skeleton  ; 
And  so  he  died — in  some  world  less  severe 
Than  this  to  join  the  one  he  held  so  dear.3 

" '  Yet  no  one  knew  when  'twas  he  passed  away 
Out  of  that  shadowy  form  and  'scaped  life's  power, 
For  still  'twas  seen  beneath  the  moon's  pale  ray, 
Or  gliding  through  the  court  at  twilight  hour. 
But  there  it  still  is  seen — and  so  it  came 
The  Via  del  Scheletro  got  its  name.'" 

1  "  Altrimenti 

L'avrebbero  levato  il  collare."—  Original. 

"  In  una  altra  Stella 
Per  raggiungere  la  sua  bella." — Original. 


204  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

There  is  not  a  word  of  all  this  which  is  "  Protestant 
invention,"  for  though  I  have  poetised  or  written  up  a 
very  rude  text,  the  narrative  is  strictly  as  I  received  it. 
There  is  one  point  in  it  worth  noticing,  that  it  is  a  matter 
of  very  general  conviction  in  Italy  that  in  such  matters  of 
Church  discipline  as  are  involved  in  this  story,  it  is  the 
small  flies  who  are  caught  in  the  web,  while  the  great 
ones  burst  buzzing  through  it  without  harm,  or  that  the 
weak  and  poor  (who  are  very  often  those  with  the  best 
hearts  and  principles)  are  most  cruelly  punished,  where  a 
bold,  sensual,  vulgar  frate  makes  light  of  and  easily  escapes 
all  accusations. 

There  is  something  sadly  and  strangely  affecting  in  the 
conception  of  a  simply  good  and  loving  nature  borne  down 
by  the  crush  of  the  world  and  misapplied  morality — or 
clerical  celibacy — into  total  wretchedness — a  diamond  dis- 
solved to  air.  One  in  reading  this  seems  to  hear  the 
sad  words  of  one  who  thought  his  own  name  was  written 
in  water : 

"  I  am  a  shadow  now,  alas  !  alas  ! 
Upon  the  skirts  of  human  nature  dwelling 
Alone.     I  chant  alone  the  holy  mass, 
While  little  signs  of  life  are  round  me  kneeling, 
And  glossy  bees  at  noon  do  fieldward  pass, 
And  many  a  chapel  bell  the  hour  is  telling, 
Paining  me  through  :  those  sounds  grow  strange  to  me, 
And  thou  art  distant  in  Humanity  ! " 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  FIG-TREE 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  VIA   DEL   FICO 

"  In  every  plant  lie  marvellous  mysteries, 
In  every  flower  there  is  a  dream  divine  ; 
The  fig-tree  bears  the  measure  of  a  life, 
And,  as  it  leaves  or  fruits,  our  lives  do  pass, 
And  all  things  in  each  other  subtly  blend." 

"  Ha  chiappato  il  fico—feum  capit" — Old  Proverbs. 

"  Quidam  itidem  medium  digitum  ostendunt,  idque  in  Hispania  adhuc 
dicitur  fieri,  et  FlCA  appellatur,  hie  illudendi  actus,  de  quo  Eryc. 
Puteanus,  loc.  cit.,  p.  70.  — Curiosus  Amuletorum  Spectator,  D.  Wolf, 
1692. 

THE  following  tale  is,  for  reasons  which  I  will  sub- 
sequently explain,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  which  I 
have  collected : 

LA  VIA  DEL  FICO. 

"  There  stood  formerly  in  the  Via  del  Fico  a  very  ancient 
palace  with  a  garden,  in  which  there  grew  a  fig-tree  which  was 
said  to  have  grown  of  itself,  or  without  ever  having  been 
planted.  This  tree  bore  much  fruit  of  great  beauty. 

"  But  however  proud  the  owner  of  the  tree  was  of  its  beauty, 
or  however  much  he  might  desire  to  have  its  fruit,  something 
always  strangely  occurred  to  prevent  its  being  enjoyed  For 
when  any  one  was  about  to  pluck  it,  there  suddenly  appeared  a 
great  black  dog,  who,  seizing  men  or  women  by  their  garments, 
dragged  them  away,  beginning  to  howl  and  bay.1  And  then 
they  hurried  away  and  let  the  figs  alone,  in  order  to  make  the 
dog  cease  his  terrible  unearthly  baying ;  for  it  is  believed  to  be 
an  omen  of  death  when  a  dog  utters  such  sounds,  it  being 

1  Faceva  il  verso  del  lupo,  the  deep  baying  which  is  a  subject  of  super- 
stition in  all  countries. 

ao5 


206  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

such  a  presage  of  disaster  as  when  a  civetta  or  small  owl  hoots 
on  the  roof. 

"  However,  it  sometimes  happened  that  the  dog  did  not 
come,  but  those  who  took  and  ate  the  figs  fared  just  as  badly 
all  the  same.  For  they  soon  began  to  feel  ill  and  suffer  dire 
pains,  and  when  they  had  gone  into  their  bedrooms  and  laid 
down,  there  always  entered  a  beautiful  girl  clad  in  white,  who 
began  to  whirl  round  (a  girarsi)  or  spin,  making  all  the  time 
a  great  buzzing  sound,  until  horror  came  over  them,  which 
when  she  perceived,  she  vanished. 

"  And  many  tried  also  to  lop  off  boughs  from  the  fig-tree, 
but  they  were  found  the  second  night  replaced  by  a  perfect 
new  growth  with  fully  ripe  fruit.  And  it  was  not  the  least 
marvel  of  the  tree  that  it  was  always  in  full  leaf,  with  abundance 
of  ripe  figs  on  it,  even  in  winter,  when  there  was  snow  on  the 
ground. 

"  One  day  men  digging  in  the  garden  found  a  tablet  of  stone 
or  metal  on  which  was  inscribed  : 

"  '  II  fico  rispettate 
E  non  la  toccate, 
E  non  cercate 
Neppure  mangiarne.' 

"  '  Respect  the  tree,  and  let  it  be, 

From  branch  to  root,  nor  touch  its  fruit  ! 
Of  itself  the  tree  did  grow, 
From  a  dog  who  long  ago, 
Enchanted  by  the  fairies'  power, 
Was  buried  here  in  mystic  hour  ; 
Therefore  we  bid  you  let  it  stand, 
And  if  you  follow  the  command 
You  will  be  happy  all  your  days, 
But  woe  to  him  who  disobeys  ! ' 

"  Now,  the  owner  of  the  palazzo  and  garden  was  a  man  who 
had  no  faith  in  old  legends,  or  love  for  such  mysteries  as  these, 
and  so  he  said,  '  It  is  time  to  put  an  end  to  all  this  supersti- 
tion, and  I  am  determined  to  at  once  see  whether  all  my 
prosperity  depends  on  a  fig-tree  \  so  do  you  cut  it  down  and 
tear  it  up,  root  and  branch,  utterly.' 

"  This  was  at  once  done  by  the  labourers,  but,  while  doing 
so,  they  heard  sounds  as  of  wailing  and  great  lamenting  in  the 
earth  beneath  them.  And  when  they,  astonished,  asked  the 
signore  to  listen  to  the  voices,  he  replied,  '  Away  with  your 
superstitions  ;  we  will  see  this  time  whether  the  tree  will  grow 
or  return  again.' 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  FIG-TREE  207 

"  Truly  it  did  not  return,  but  passed  away  for  ever,  and  with 
it  all  the  property  and  prosperity  of  the  lord.  For  in  time  he 
had  to  sell  all  he  had,  and,  losing  what  he  got,  died  in  poverty. 
Then  those  who  had  to  go  in  the  street  where  his  palace  had 
been  would  say,  *  Andiamo  nella  Via  del  Fico]  just  as  they  say, 
1  Andar  per  la  Via  d<?  Cam','  but  meaning  to  '  go  in  the  way 
of  what  is  worthless  or  poverty-stricken,'  and  so  it  was  that 
the  street  came  by  its  name." 

This  strange  tale,  which  is  evidently  of  great  antiquity, 
and  deeply  inspired  with  real  witch  tradition,  has,  indeed, 
nothing  in  common  with  the  pretty  fairy  stories  which 
are  so  generally  presented  as  constituting  the  whole  of 
popular  narrative  folklore.  It  was  not  made  nor  intended 
to  serve  as  a  pleasing  tale  for  youth,  but  to  embody  cer- 
tain ideas  which  the  witch-teacher  explained  to  the  pupil. 
The  first  of  these  is,  that  the  fig-tree  planted  under  cer- 
tain circumstances  became  a  kind  of  Luck  of  Eden  Hall 
to  its  possessor.  This  story  comes  from  the  Etruscan- 
Roman  land,  where  traditions  have  been  preserved  with 
incredible  fidelity.  In  the  olden  time  Tarquin  the  Elder 
planted  a  fig-tree  in  a  public  place  in  Rome,  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  common  faith  that  this  tree  would  flourish  for 
ever  if  undisturbed,  and  that  on  it  depended  the  prosperity 
and  preservation  of  the  city.1  And  in  India,  the  mother- 
land of  Greek  and  Roman  mythology,  it  was  believed 
that  whenever  one  of  certain  ancient  fig-trees  died,  that 
the  reigning  family  would  pass  away.  The  opinion  was 
widely  spread  that  the  fig-tree  was  above  all  others  the 
one  of  life  and  destiny.  In  the  Bagvatgeta,  Krishna 
says  of  himself:  "  I  am  the  spirit,  the  beginning,  the 
middle,  and  the  end  of  creation.  I  am  as  the  Aswatka 
(pzpal  or  Indian  fig)  among  trees."  Hence  it  came  that 
many  Christians  believed  that  the  Tree  of  Life  in  Eden 
was  not  an  apple  but  a  fig-tree  The  traditions  which 
establish  the  fig-tree  as  being  above  all  others  one  on 

1  Friedrich,  "  Symbolik  der  Natur." 


2o8  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

whose  existence  that  of  individuals,  families,  and  states 
depended,  are  extremely  numerous  and  varied.  "It 
was/'  remarks  Alt,  "  not  only  a  symbol  of  fertility,  but  an 
emblem  of  ever-renewed  and  never-extinguished  vitality, 
and  one  of  eternity,  the  resurrection,  and  of  the  trans- 
migration of  the  soul."  On  the  celebrated  altar  in 
Ghent,  the  Tree  of  Life  is  represented  as  a  fig-tree 
(Menzel,  Christliche  Symbolik,  i.  277).  This  universal 
belief  explains  why  the  fig-tree  determines  the  duration 
and  destiny  of  lives  and  families. 

It  may  have  struck  the  reader  as  singular  that  those 
who  eat  of  the  forbidden  figs  are  punished  by  the  visit  of 
a  beautiful  girl  who  whirls  around  with  a  buzzing  sound 
till  they  are  overcome  by  awe.  Here  be  it  noted  first  of 
all,  that  the  fig,  like  the  pear,  is  exactly  the  shape  of  a 
top,  even  the  stem  representing  the  peg.  Now,  in  ancient 
Latin  witchlore  or  sorcery,  extraordinary  magic  power, 
or  even  sanctity,  was  attached  to  everything  which  made 
a  humming  or  buzzing  sound.  It  was  supposed,  when 
properly  made,  with  certain  incantations  or  instruments, 
to  be  capable  of  throwing  people  into  a  trance.  Chief 
among  these  instruments  was  the  top.  Thus  Horace  begs 
Crattidia  to  stop  the  enchantment  of  the  buzzing  top 
(Ode  xv.  Book  v.). 

On  this  subject  I  find  the  following  in  Diavoli  e  Streghe} 
by  Dr.  A.  Zangolini,  1864: 

"  The  rombo  1  is  an  instrument  not  unlike  the  trottola  or 
peg-top  of  our  boys,  called  in  Latin  turbo,  and  in  common 
language  also  paleo.  It  was  believed  that  with  it  in  witchcraft 
a  lover  could  have  his  head  turned  with  passion,  or  that  he 
would  be  turned  at  will  while  it  spun.  The  same  held  true 
of  other  disks  (tee-to turns)  of  wood,  iron,  or  copper." 

This  idea  was  extended  to  the  hum  of  spinning-wheels, 
which  aided  the  conception  of  the  Fates,  and  the  thread 

1  A  humming-top. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  FIG-TREE  209 

of  life,  to  the  buzzing  of  bees  and  flies,  and  many  other 
variations  of  such  sounds.  Mr.  Andrew  Lang  has  in 
an  admirable  paper  shown  that  the  bull-roarer  has  been 
regarded  as  so  sacred  among  certain  savages  that  women, 
or  the  profane,  were  not  allowed  to  touch  it.  A  bull- 
roarer  is  so  easily  constructed,  that  it  is  remarkable  how 
few  people  are  familiar  with  it.  Take  a  common  stick, 
say  six  inches  in  length,  tie  a  cord  three  feet  long  to  one 
end,  and,  grasping  the  other,  whirl  it  round,  with  the 
result  of  astonishing  all  to  whom  it  is  not  familiar  by  its 
sound : 

"  First  it  is  but  a  gentle  hum, 

Like  bird-song  warbling  in  the  trees, 
Then  like  a  torrent  it  doth  foam, 

And  then  a  wild  and  roaring  breeze." 

When  vigorously  spun,  it  may  be  heard  of  a  calm 
evening  for  a  mile,  and  its  effect  is  then  indescribably — 
I  will  not  say,  as  most  novelists  here  would,  " weird"  for 
I  do  not  know  that  it  prophesies  anything,  but  it  is  cer- 
tainly most  suggestive  of  something  mysterious. 

Therefore  the  bayadere,  with  her  spinning  pas  j^w/and 
buzzing  romore,  who  appears  to  the  eater  of  the  figs,  is 
the  magic  top  in  person,  her  form  being  taken  from  the 
fig.  The  connection  of  the  enchanted  dog  with  the  tree 
is  not  so  clear,  but  it  may  be  observed  that  there  is  a 
vast  mass  of  tradition  which  makes  the  black  dog  a 
chthonic,  that  is,  a  subterranean  or  under-earthly  symbol, 
and  that  in  this  story  he  comes  out  of  the  earth.  This 
animal  was  a  special  favourite  of  Hecate-Diana  of  the 
world  below,  the  queen  of  all  the  witches. 

There  is  a  vast  quantity  of  folklore  in  reference  to  the 
fig  as  an  emblem  of  fertility,  reproduction,  and  sensual 
affinity,  and,  on  the  other  side,  of  its  being  an  emblem 
often  used  in  proverbs  to  express  the  very  contrary,  or 
trifling  value,  worthlessness,  and  poverty.  Thus,  the 
barren  fig-tree  of  the  New  Testament  had  a  deep  signifi- 
cation to  all  who  were  familiar  with  these  poetic  and 

o 


210  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

mystic  "correspondences."  The  reader  has  probably 
observed  that  in  this  story  there  is,  as  in  a  parable,  a 
strong  intimation  of  symbolism,  or  as  if  more  were  meant 
than  meets  the  ear. 

"  Remains  to  be  said,"  that  the  putting  the  thumb 
between  the  index  and  middle  finger,  which  was  regarded 
with  awe  by  the  Romans  as  driving  away  evil  spirits, 
was  called  "  making  the  fig,"  or  far  la  castagna,  to  make 
the  chestnut — in  Latin,  medium  ostendere  digitum.  The 
same  sign  as  the  fig  to  drive  away  devils  became  a  deadly 
insult  when  made  at  any  one,  as  if  he  were  a  wizard  and 
accursed.  It  had  also  a  jeering  and  indecent  meaning. 
It  has  been  said  that  the  fig,  as  a  synonym  for  anything 
worthless,  originated  from  the  great  abundance  and  cheap- 
ness of  the  fruit  in  Greece,  but  this  is  very  unsatisfactory, 
since  it  would  apply  as  well  to  olives  or  grain. 

"This  tale  doth  teach,"  notes  the  learned  Flaxius,  "as 
regards  the  folklore  of  the  black  dog,  that  in  this  life  most 
things  are  good  or  bad,  as  we  take  them.  For  the  black  dog, 
Monsieur,  of  Cornelius  Agrippa  (like  that  in  Faust)  was  a 
demon,  albeit  his  pupil,  Wierus,  records  that  he  himself  knew 
the  animal  well,  but  never  supposed  there  was  aught  of  the 
goblin  in  it.  And  this  same  Wierus  has  mentioned  (loc.  at., 
p.  m.  325),  that  one  of  the  things  which  most  terrify  the  devil 
and  all  his  gang  is  the  blood  of  a  black  dog  splashed  on  the 
wall.  So  in  ancient  symbolism  death  meant  life,  the  two 
being  correlative,  and  in  witchcraft  the  spell  of  the  frog  and 
many  more  are  meant  to  do  deadly  harm,  or  great  good, 
according  to  the  way  in  which  they  are  worked.  Wherein 
lies  an  immense  moral  lesson  for  ye  all.  Remember,  chil- 
dren— 

"  '  There  is  no  passion,  vice,  or  crime, 

Which  truly,  closely  understood, 
Does  not,  in  the  full  course  of  time, 

Do  far  less  harm  than  good.' " 


IL  PALAZZO  FERONI 
SHOWING  HOW  IT  GOT  ITS   NAME   FROM  A   FAIRY 

"  Ah  me !  what  perils  do  environ 
The  man  who  meddles  wilh  cold  iron  ! 
Thus  sang  great  Butler  long  ago, 
In  Hudibras,  as  all  men  know  ; 
But  in  this  story  you  will  see 
How  Iron  was  sold  by  irony." 

ONE  of  the  most  picturesque  mediaeval  palaces  in  Florence 
is  that  of  the  Feroni,  and  its  architectural  beauty  is  greatly 
enhanced  by  its  fine  situation  at  the  head  of  the  Torna- 
buoni  on  the  Piazza  della  Trinita,  with  the  magnificent 
column  of  the  Medicis  just  before  its  gate.  According  to 
Italian  authority,  "  this  palace  may  be  called,  after  those 
of  the  Praetorio  (i.e.,  Bargello)  and  the  Signoria,  the  most 
characteristic  building  of  its  epoch  in  Florence.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  built  by  Arnolfo  di  Cambio.  It  once 
belonged  to  the  Spini,  from  whom  it  passed  to  the  Feroni." 
When  I  was  in  Florence  in  1846-47,  this  palace  was  the 
best  hotel  in  Florence,  and  the  one  in  which  I  lived. 
There  have  been  great  "  restorations  "  in  the  city  since 
that  time,  but  very  few  which  have  not  been  most  dis- 
creditably and  foolishly  conducted,  even  to  the  utter 
destruction  of  all  that  was  truly  interesting  in  them ;  as, 
for  instance,  "  the  house  of  Dante,  torn  down  within  a 
few  years  to  be  rebuilt,  so  that  now  not  one  stone  rests 
upon  another  of  the  original ;  "  and  "  Santa  Maria  Novella, 
where  the  usual  monkish  hatred  of  everything  not  rococo 
and  trashy  has  shown  itself  by  destroying  beautiful  work 
of  earlier  times,  or  selling  it  to  the  Kensington  Museum, 


212  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

setting  up  a  barbarously  gilt  gingerbread  high  altar,  and 
daubing  the  handsome  Gothic  sacristy  with  gaudy  colours." 
To  which  the  author  of  Murray's  "  Guide-Book  for  Cen- 
tral Italy  "  adds,  that  "  perhaps  on  the  whole  list  of  eccle- 
siastical restorations  there  does  not  exist  a  more  deplorable 
instance  of  monastic  vandalism  than  has  been  perpetrated 
here  by  the  architect  Romoli " — a   remark  which    falls 
unfortunately  very  far  short  of  the  truth.     Such  ruin  is 
wrought   everywhere  at   present;   witness  the  beautiful 
Fonte  Gaja,  "  the  masterpiece  of  Jacopo  della  Quercia  in 
Siena  (1402),  which,  since  the  change  of  Government, 
was  not  '  restored,'  but  totally  destroyed  and  carted  away, 
a  miserable  modern  copy  having  been  recently  set  up  in 
its  place  "  (Hare,  "  Cities  of  Central  Italy  "),  all  of  which 
was  probably  done  to  "  make  a  job  "  for  a  favoured  builder. 
"  But  what  can  you  expect,"  adds  a  friend,  "  in  a  country 
where  it  is  common  to  cover  a  beautiful  dry  stone  wall 
with  plaster,  and  then  paint  it  over  to  resemble  the  original 
stone,"  because,  as  I  was  naively  told,  "  the  rough  stone 
itself  looks  too  cheap  "  ?     Anybody  who  has  lived  long  in 
Italy  can  add  infinitely  to  such  instances.     The  Palazzo 
Feroni  has,  however,  suffered  so  little,  for  a  wonder,  from 
restoration,  and  still  really  looks  so  genuinely  old,  that  it 
deserves  special  mention,  and  may  serve  as  an  excuse  for 
my  remarks  on  the  manner  in  which  ancient  works  are 
destroyed  so  con  amore  by  monks  and  modern  municipali- 
ties.    I  may  here  note  that  this  building  is,  in  a  sense, 
the  common  rendezvous  for  all  the  visitors  to  Florence, 
chiefly  English  and  Americans,  since  in  it  are  the  very 
large  circulating  library  and  reading-rooms  of  Vieusseux.1 
There  is,  of  course,  a  legend  attached  to  the  Palazzo 
Feroni,  and  it  is  as  follows : 

1  The  Philological  Society  (Circolo),  has  also  its  rooms  in  this  building. 


IL  PALAZZO  FERONI  213 

IL  PALAZZO  FERONI. 

"The  Signore  Pietro,  who  afterwards  received  the  name 
Feroni,  was  a  very  rich  man,  and  yet  hated  by  the  poor,  on 
whom  he  bestowed  nothing,  and  not  much  liked  by  his  equals, 
though  he  gave  them  costly  entertainments ;  for  there  was  in 
all  the  man  and  in  his  character  something  inconsistent  and 
contradictory,  or  of  corna  contra  croce — '  the  horns  against  the 
cross,'  as  the  proverb  hath  it,  which  made  it  so  that  one  never 
knew  where  to  have  him  : 

"  '  Un,  al  monte,  e  1'altro  al  plan, 
Quel  che,  e  oggi,  non  e  doman.' 

41  '  On  the  hill  in  joy,  in  the  dale  in  sorrow- 
One  thing  to-day,  and  another  to-morrow.' 

"  For  to  take  him  at  every  point,  there  was  something  to 
count  off.     Thus  in  all  the  city  there  was  no  one — according 
to  his  own  declaration — who  was 
Richer  or  more  prosperous, 
Or  who  had  enjoyed  a  better  education, 
Or  who  had  such  remarkable  general  knowledge  of  every- 
thing taking  place, 
Or  more  of  a  distinguished  courtier, 
Or  one  with  such  a  train  of  dependants,  and  people  of 

all  kinds  running  after  him, 
Or  more  generally  accomplished, 
Or  better  looking — 

"  And  finally,  no  one  so  physically  strong,  as  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  boast  to  everybody  on  first  acquaintance,  and  give 
them  proofs  of  it — he  having  heard  somewhere  that  *  physical 
force  makes  a  deeper  impression  than  courtesy.7  But  all 
these  fine  gifts  failed  to  inspire  respect  (and  here  was  another 
puzzle  in  his  nature),  either  because  he  was  so  tremendously 
vain  that  he  looked  down  on  all  mortals  as  so  many  insects, 
and  all  pretty  much  alike  as  compared  to  himself,  or  else  from 
a  foolish  carelessness  and  want  of  respect,  he  made  himself 
quite  as  familiar  with  trivial  people  as  with  anybody.1 

"  One  evening  the  Signore  Pietro  gave  a  grand  ball  in  his 
palace,  and  as  the  guests  came  in — the  beauty  and  grace  and 

1  Perche  si  rendeva  alle  persone  troppo  triviale — A  graphic  sketch  of 
a  character  who  would  be  peculiarly  offensive  in  a  highly  patrician  com- 
munity. 


214  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

courtly  style  of  all  Italy  in  its  golden  time — he  half  closed  his 
eyes,  lazily  looking  at  the  brilliant  swarm  of  human  butterflies 
and  walking  flowers,  despising  while  admiring  them,  though 
if  he  had  been  asked  to  give  a  reason  for  his  contempt  he 
would  have  been  puzzled,  not  having  any  great  amount  of 
self-respect  for  himself.  And  they  spun  round  and  round  in 
the  dance.  .  .  . 

"When  all  at  once  he  saw  among  the  guests  a  lady, 
unknown  to  him,  of  such  striking  and  singular  appearance  as 
to  rouse  him  promptly  from  his  idle  thought.  She  was  indeed 
wonderfully  beautiful,  but  what  was  very  noticeable  was  her 
absolutely  ivory  white  complexion,  which  hardly  seemed  human, 
her  profuse  black  silken  hair ;  and  most  of  all  her  unearthly 
large  jet-black  eyes,  of  incredible  brilliancy,  with  such  a  strange 
expression  as  neither  the  Signore  Pietro  nor  any  one  else 
present  had  ever  seen  before.  There  was  a  power  in  them,  a 
kind  of  basilisk- fascination  allied  to  angelic  sweetness — fire 
and  ice  ...  ostra  e  tramontan — a  hot  and  cold  wind. 

"  The  Signore  Pietro,  with  his  prompt  tact,  made  the  lady's 
paleness  a  pretence  for  addressing  her.  '  Did  she  feel  ill — 
everything  in  the  house  was  at  her  disposition — 

"  '  Servants,  carpets,  chairs  and  tables, 
Kitchen,  pantry,  hall  and  stables, 
Everything  above  or  under  ; 
All  my  present  earthly  plunder, 
All  too  small  for  such  a  wonder.' 

"  The  lady,  with  a  smile  and  a  glance  in  which  there  was 
not  the  slightest  trace  of  being  startled  or  abashed,  replied  : 

"  '  'Tis  not  worth  while  your  house  to  rifle, 
0  mio  Signer,  for  such  a  trifle. 
'Tis  but  a  slight  indisposition, 
For  which  I'll  rest,  by  your  permission.' 

"The  Signore  Pietro,  as  an  improvisatore,  was  delighted 
with  such  a  ready  answer,  and  remarking  that  he  was  some- 
thing of  a  doctor,  begged  permission  to  bring  a  soothing  cordial, 
admirable  for  the  nerves,  which  he  hoped  to  have  the  honour 
of  placing  directly  in  that  fairy-like  hand.  .  .  .  The  Signore 
vanished  to  seek  the  calmante. 

"  The  guests  had  begun  by  this  time  to  notice  this  lady, 
and  from  her  extremely  strange  appearance  they  gathered 
round  her,  expecting  at  first  to  have  some  sport  in  listening  to, 


1L  PALAZZO  FERONI  215 

or  quizzing,  an  eccentric  or  a  character.  But  they  changed  their 
mind  as  they  came  to  consider  her — some  feeling  an  awe  as  if 
she  were  a  fata,  and  all  being  finally  convinced  that  whoever 
she  was  she  had  come  there  to  tt// somebody  amazingly  cheap, 
nor  did  they  feel  quite  assured  that  they  themselves  were  not 
included  in  the  bargain. 

"The  Signore  Pietro  returned  with  the  soothing  cordial; 
he  had  evidently  not  drunk  any  of  it  himself  while  on  the 
errand,  for  there  was  a  massive  chased  iron  table  inlaid  with 
gold  and  silver  in  his  way,  and  the  mighty  lord  with  an  angry 
blow  from  his  giant  arm,  like  one  from  a  blacksmith's  No.  i 
hammer,  broke  it,  adding  an  artisan-like  oath,  and  knocked  it 
over.  Flirtation  had  begun. 

"  '  Did  you  hurt  yourself,  Signore  ? '  asked  the  lady  amiably. 

"  *  Not  I,  indeed,'  he  replied  proudly.  '  A  Stone  is  my 
name,  but  it  ought  to  have  been  Iron,  lady,  for  I  am  hard  as 
nails,  a  regular  Ferrone  or  big  man  of  iron,  and  all  my  ances- 
tors were  Ferroni  too ;  ah !  we  are  a  strong  lot— at  your  ser- 
vice ! '  Saying  this  he  handed  the  cup  to  the  lady,  who  drank 
the  potion,  and  then,  instead  of  giving  the  goblet  back  to  the 
Signore  Pietro,  as  he  expected,  meaning  to  gallantly  drink  off 
les  doux  restes,  she  beckoned  with  her  finger  and  an  upward 
scoop  of  her  hand  to  the  table,  which  was  lying  disconsolately 
on  its  back  with  its  legs  upwards,  like  a  trussed  chicken  waiting 
to  be  carved,  when  lo !  at  the  signal  it  jumped  up  and  came 
walking  to  her  like  a  Christian,  its  legs  moving  most  humanly, 
and  yet  all  present  were  appalled  at  the  sight,  and  the  Signore 
gasped — 

"  '  I  believe  the  devil's  in  it ! ' 

"  The  lady  composedly  placed  the  draught  on  the  table  and 
smiled  benevolently.  There  was  something  in  that  angelic 
smile  which  made  the  Signore  feel  as  if  he  had  been  made 
game  of.  In  a  rage  he  rushed  at  the  table,  which  reared  up 
on  its  hind  legs  and  showed  fight  with  its  forepaws,  on  which 
there  were  massy  round  iron  balls,  as  on  the  other  extremities. 
Truly  it  was  a  desperate  battle,  and  both  combatants  covered 
themselves  with  dust  and  glory.  Now  the  table  would  put  a 
ball  well  in,  and  the  Signore  would  counter,  or,  as  I  may  say, 
cannon  or  cannon-ball  it  off;  and  then  they  would  grapple  and 
roll  over  and  over  till  the  Signora  called  them  to  time.  At 
last  the  lord  wrenched  all  the  cannon-balls  off  from  the  table, 
which  first,  making  a  jump  to  the  ceiling,  came  down  in  its 
usual  position,  while  the  balls  began  dancing  on  it  like  mad. 


216  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  At  such  a  sight  all  present  roared  with  laughter,  and  it 
was  observed  that  the  lady,  no  longer  pale,  flushed  with  merri- 
ment like  a  rose.  As  for  Signore  Pietro  he  was  red  as  a  beet, 
and  heaved  out  that  he  had  been  canzonato  or  quizzed. 

"  '  Truly  yes/  replied  the  lady ;  '  but  henceforth  you  shall 
have  a  name,  for  to  do  you  justice  you  are  as  hard  as  iron, 
and  Iron  you  shall  be  called — Big  Iron  Ferrone — and  cannon- 
balls  shall  be  your  coat-of-arms,  in  scecula  sczculorum.  By 
edict  of  the  Queen  of  the  Fairies  ! ' 

"  Now  at  this  all  the  love  in  the  Signore  Pietro  concentrated 
itself  in  his  heart,  passed  into  his  tongue,  and  caused  him  to 
burst  forth  in  song  in  the  following  ottava,  while  the  music 
accompanied : 

"  *  Quando  vedo  le  femmine  rammone, 
Mi  sento  andare  il  cuore  in  convulsione, 
Hanno  certe  facette  vispe  e  sane, 
Da  fare  entrare  in  sen  la  tentazione, 
Oh  donnina  !     Non  siate  disumana  ! 
Di  Pietro  abbiate  compassione  ! 
Scusante  la  modestia  se  1'e  troppo 
Di  questi  personali  non  sene  poppo.' 

"  '  When  I  behold  thy  all  too  lovely  features, 
I  feel  my  heart  in  soft  convulsions  heaving, 
Thou  art  the  most  entrancing  of  all  creatures, 
I  tell  you  so  in  sooth,  without  deceiving, 
In  fact  there  is  no  beauty  which  can  beat  yours  ; 
And  Pietro  loves  you,  lady,  past  believing ; 
In  breasts  like  cannon-balls  there's  naught  to  blame  ; 
But  oh  !  I  hope  your  heart's  not  like  the  same  ! ' 

"  But  as  this  exquisite  poem  concluded  with  an  immense 
sigh,  there  appeared  before  them  a  golden  and  pearl  car,  in 
which  the  fairy  entered,  and  rising  sailed  away  through  a  great 
hole  in  the  ceiling,  which  opened  before  and  closed  behind 
her,  Signore  Pietro  remaining  a  bocca  aperta,  gaping  with 
opened  jaws,  till  all  was  o'er. 

"  c  Well ! '  exclaimed  the  master,  '  she  gave  me  the  slip,  but 
we  have  had  a  jolly  evening  of  it,  and  I'm  the  first  man  who 
ever  fought  an  iron  table,  and  I've  got  a  good  idea.  My  name 
is  now  Feroni — the  Big  Iron  Man — ladies  and  gentlemen,  please 
remember,  and  cannon-balls  are  in  my  coat-of-arms  ! ' ): 

I  have  naturally  taken  some  liberty  as  regards  mere 
text  in  translating  this  tale,  in  order  to  render  the 


IL  PALAZZO  FERONI  217 

better  the  spirit  of  the  original ;  but  not  so  much  as  may 
be  supposed,  and  spirit  and  words  are,  on  the  whole, 
accurately  rendered. 

The  reader  is  not  to  suppose  that  there  are  any  traces 
of  true  history  in  this  fairy  tale.  I  am  very  greatly 
indebted  to  Miss  Wyndham  of  Florence  (who  has  her- 
self made  collections  in  folk-lore),  for  investigating  this 
subject  of  the  Feroni  family,  with  the  following  result 
— it  being  premised  that  it  had  occurred  to  the  lady 
that  the  "  cannon-balls "  or  Medicean  pills,  or  pawn- 
broker's sign,  whatever  it  was,  had  been  attributed  by 
mistake  to  the  Feroni.  Miss  Wyndham,  after  consulting 
with  authority,  found  that  the  Feroni  themselves  had  not 
the  balls,  but,  owing  probably  to  transfer  of  property, 
there  is  found  on  their  palaces  the  Alessandri  shield,  on 
which  the  upper  half  and  lower  left  quarter  contain  the 
Medici  spheres.  She  also  sent  me  this  extract  from  the 
old  work,  Marietta  di  Ricci : 

"  The  Feroni  family,  originally  named  from  Balducci  da 
Vinci,  and  of  peasant  origin,  owes  its  fortune  to  Francesco, 
son  of  Baldo  di  Paolo  di  Ferone,  a  dyer  of  Empoli.  Going 
as  a  merchant  to  Holland,  he  accumulated  a  large  fortune. 
Made  known  to  Cosimo  III.  (just  called  to  the  Grand  Duchy) 
by  his  travels,  he  was  called  to  Florence.  In  1673  ne  was 
made  citizen  of  Florence,  in  1674  he  was  elected  senator,  and 
in  1681  appointed  Marquis  of  Bellavista.  He  left  a  colossal 
fortune,  which  has  been  kept  up  by  his  heirs  to  the  present 
day.  His  grandson  Guiseppe  was  made  cardinal  in  1753. 

"  Their  arms  are  an  arm  mailed  in  iron,  holding  a  sword, 
and  above  it  a  golden  lily  in  a  blue  field." 

This  extract  is  interesting,  as  showing  how  a  family 
could  rise  by  industry  and  wealth,  even  in  one  generation, 
by  the  work  of  a  single  man,  to  the  highest  honours  in 
Florence.  And  it  is  very  remarkable  that  some  impres- 
sion of  the  origin  of  this  vigorous  artisan  and  merchant, 
of  peasant  stock,  is  evident  in  the  tale.  He  is  there  clever 


218  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

and  strong,  but  vulgar  and  familiar,  so  that  he  was  not 
personally  liked.  He  remains  standing  open-mouthed, 
like  a  comic  actor,  when  the  fairy  vanishes.  In  fact  the 
whole  tale  suggests  the  elements  of  a  humorous  melo- 
drama or  operetta,  a  bourgeois  gentilhomme. 

"  And  should  it  come  to  pass  that  any  read 
This  tale  in  Viesseux,  his  library, 
In  the  Feroni  palace,  let  them  think 
That,  even  in  the  rooms  where  they  do  read, 
The  things  which  I  have  told  once  came  to  pass — 
Even  so  the  echo  ever  haunts  the  shrine  ! " 


LA  VIA  DELLE  BELLE  DONNE 

"The  church  of  San  Gaetano,  on  the  left  of  the  Via  Tornabuoni,  faces 
the  Palazzo  Antinori,  built  by  Giuliano  di  San  Gallo.  Opposite  is  the 
Via  delle  Belle  Donne,  a  name,  says  Leigh  Hunt,  which  it  is  a  sort  of  tune 
to  pronounce." — HARE,  Cities  of  Central  Italy. 

THE  name  of  this  place  is  suggestive  of  a  story  of  some 
kind,  but  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  obtained  the  follow- 
ing relative  to  the  Street  of  Pretty  Women  : 

"  In  the  Via  delle  Belle  Donne  there  was  a  very  large  old 
house  in  which  were  many  lodgers,  male  and  female,  who, 
according  to  their  slender  means,  had  two  rooms  for  a  family. 
Among  these  were  many  very  pretty  girls,  some  of  them  seam- 
stresses, others  corset-makers,  some  milliners,  all  employed  in 
shops,  who  worked  all  day  and  then  went  out  in  the  evening 
to  carry  their  sewing  to  the  maggazini.  And  it  was  from  them 
that  the  street  got  its  name,  for  it  became  so  much  the  fashion 
to  go  and  look  at  them  that  young  men  would  say,  *  Andiamo 
nella  Via  delle  Belle  Donne] — '  Let  us  go  to  the  Street  of  the 
Pretty  Women ; '  so  it  has  been  so-called  to  this  day. 

"And  when  they  sallied  forth  they  were  at  once  surrounded 
or  joined  by  young  men,  who  sought  their  company  with 
views  more  or  less  honourable,  as  is  usual.  Among  these 
there  was  a  very  handsome  and  wealthy  signore  named  Adolfo, 
who  was  so  much  admired  that  he  might  have  had  his  choice 
of  all  these  belles,  but  he  had  fixed  his  mind  on  one,  a 
beautiful  blonde,  who  was,  indeed,  the  fairest  among  them  all. 
She  had  large  black  eyes,  with  quick  glances,  beautiful  light 
hair  in  masses,  and  was  always  dressed  simply,  yet  with  natural 
elegance.  She  had  long  avoided  making  acquaintance  among 
men,  and  she  now  shunned  Adolfo ;  but  at  last  he  succeeded, 
after  many  difficulties,  in  becoming  acquainted,  and  finally 
won  her  heart — the  end  of  it  all  being  the  old  story  of  a  poor 
girl  ruined  by  a  gay  and  great  signer,  left  a  mother,  and  then 

abandoned. 

2x9 


220  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  For  four  years  she  lived  alone,  by  her  work,  with  her  child, 
who  grew  up  to  be  a  very  beautiful  boy.  Then  he,  noting 
that  other  children  had  parents,  asked  her  continually, '  Mamma, 
where  is  my  papa  ? ' 

"  He  gave  her  no  rest,  and  at  last  she  went  to  Adolfo  and 
asked  him  what  he  would  do  for  their  child. 

"  He  laughed  at  her,  and  said,  '  Nothing.  That  folly  is  all 
over.  Begone  ! ' 

"Then,  in  a  wild  passion  of  rage  at  seeing  her  child  so 
despised,  she  stabbed  him  to  the  heart,  and  escaped  unseen 
and  undiscovered. 

"  Then,  when  the  boy  asked  her  again  : 

"  '  Cara  madre,  cara  madre, 
Dove  e  lo  mio  padre  ? ' 

"  «  Mother  dear,  tell  to  me 
Where  may  my  father  be  ?  ' 

"  She  replied : 

"  *  Darling  son,  thy  sire  is  dead, 
Lying  in  an  earthen  bed  ; 
Dead  he  ever  will  remain, 
By  my  dagger  he  was  slain. 
Had  he  but  been  kind  to  thee, 
Living  still  he  yet  would  be  ; 
Other  sorrows  I  forgave, 
With  my  dirk  I  dug  his  grave.1 

This  is  but  a  commonplace  story,  yet  it  is  such  as  finds 
more  currency  among  the  people,  and  particularly  among 
girls,  than  many  a  better  one.  There  is  a  strong  touch 
of  nature,  and  especially  of  Italian  nature,  in  the  con- 
cluding lines. 

1  l(  Col  mio  pugnale  ammazato, 
Col  pugnale  e  sotterato." 


THE  WIZARD  WITH  RED  TEETH 

"  And  dost  thou  fear  to  greet 
The  Dead  with  me.     They  graced  our  wedding  sweet." 

—MOORE,  The  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan. 

THE  following  ballad  may  be  classed  as  Florentine,  since 
it  was  in  Florence  that  I  heard  it  sung,  but  it  is  not 
attached  to  any  particular  place.  It  is  one  of  those  com- 
positions which  are  either  sung  or  simply  recited,  and 
quite  as  often  intoned  in  a  manner  which  is  neither  sing- 
ing nor  speaking.  In  such  chant,  when  a  rhyme  happens 
to  fall  in  by  chance,  the  utmost  is  made  of  it  by  dwelling 
on  the  word  or  drawling  it  out.  Sometimes,  as  in  the 
following,  there  are  verses  of  four  lines  each,  but  only 
the  concluding  line  of  every  verse  rhymes,  i.e.,  with  the 
preceding  last  line  of  the  previous  stanza  : 

IL  STREGHONE  coi  DENTI  Rossi. 

"  C'era  un  gran  signore 
Che  una  bella  figlia  aveva, 
Far  la  felice  lo  credeva, 
Col  far  la  maritar. 

"  '  Babbo,  no'voglio  marito, 
Prendo  uno  soltanto, 
Se  si  uomo  coi  dente  rossi, 
Di  famelo  trovar.' 

"  '  Figlia,  non  e  possibile 
A  me  mi  strazzi  il  cuor 
Avanti  di  morire 
Vo  farti  tranquillo  il  cuor.' 


222  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

11  Un  giorno  allor  comparvi, 
Un  giovane  assai  bello, 
E  denti  rossi  li  teneva, 
La  sua  figlia,  Amelia, 

*  Mi  dica  dove  ella.' 

"  '  lo  lo  vo  sposare, 
E  con  me  la  vo'  portare.' 
'  Dimmi  dove  la  porti, 
Giovane  sconosciuto, 
La  mia  figlia  no  ti  rifiuto, 
Coi  denti  rossi  lo  vuol  sposar  ? ' 

"  Sposa  la  siora  Amelia, 
E  se  la  porta  via. 
La  casa  dove  sia, 
Questo  poi  non  lo  sa. 

"  La  porta  in  una  capanna, 
Di  foglie,  legno,  e  fieno, 

*  Ortello  fa  sapere, 

Se  vuoi  saper  chi  sono. 

"  '  lo  sono  un'  streghone, 
Te'l  giuro  in  verita, 
La  notte  a  mezzanotte 
lo  ti  faccio  levar. 

"  '  Ti  porto  al  camposanto, 
A  sotterar  i  morti ; 
E  se  tu  vuoi  mangiar, 
Quel  sangue,  bella  mia, 
Tu  Tai  da  succiar.' 

"  La  giovana  disperata, 
Piange,  grida  e  si  dispera, 
Ma  rimedio  piu  non  v'era 
Anche  lei  una  Strega, 
Toccava  diventar." 

TRANSLATION. 

"  There  was  a  grand  signore 
Who  had  a  daughter  fair ; 
He  longed  to  see  her  happy, 
And  wished  that  she  were  wed. 


THE  WIZARD  WITH  RED  TEETH  223 

"  '  Oh,  father  !  I  would  not  marry, 
I  have  vowed  to  have  for  my  husband 
One  with  teeth  as  red  as  coral. 
Oh  !  find  him  for  me,'  she  said. 

"  *  My  daughter,  it  is  not  possible, 
You  wring  and  pain  my  heart. 
Ere  I  die  and  pass  away 
I  would  fain  be  at  peace/  said  he. 

"  One  day  there  appeared  before  her 
A  knight  of  goodly  seeming, 
His  teeth  were  red  as  coral. 
Said  the  beautiful  Amelia, 
1  There  is  the  spouse  for  me.' 

"  '  I  will  marry  her,'  said  the  knight, 
'  And  bear  her  with  me  away.' 
1  Tell  me  where  wilt  thou  take  her, 
Thou  strange  and  unknown  man. 
I  do  not  refuse  her  to  thee, 
But  whither  wilt  thou  roam  ? ' 

"  He  married  fair  Amelia, 
And  carried  her  far  away. 
4  Where  is  the  house  thou  dwell'st  in  ? 
And  say  where  is  thy  home  ? ' 

"  He  took  her  to  a  cabin, 
All  leaves  and  sticks  and  hay, 
*  My  true  name  is  Ortello. 
To-night,  at  the  hour  of  midnight, 
I  will  carry  thee  away. 

"  *  I  will  bear  thee  to  the  graveyard 
To  dig  up  the  newly  dead ; 
Then  if  thou  hast  thirst  or  hunger 
Thou  mayst  suck  the  blood  of  the  corpses,' 
To  her  the  Sorcerer  said 

"  She  wept  in  desperate  sorrow, 
She  wrung  her  lily  hand, 
But  she  was  lost  for  ever, 
And  in  the  witches'  band." 


224  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

This  was,  and  is,  a  very  rude  ballad  ;  its  moral  appears 
to  be  that  feminine  caprice  and  disregard  of  parental  love 
must  be  punished.  It  is  very  remarkable  as  having  to 
perfection  that  Northern  or  German  element  which  Goethe 
detected  in  a  Neapolitan  witch-song  given  in  his  Italian 
journey.1  It  has  also  in  spirit,  and  somewhat  strangely 
in  form,  that  which  characterises  one  of  Heine's  most 
singular  songs.  It  impresses  me,  as  I  was  only  yester- 
day impressed  in  the  Duomo  of  Siena  at  rinding,  among 
the  wood-carvings  in  the  choir,  Lombard  grotesques  which 
were  markedly  Teutonic,  having  in  them  no  trace  of  any- 
thing Italian. 

"  Quaint  mysteries  of  goblins  and  strange  things, 
We  scarce  know  what — half  animal  half  vine, 
And  beauteous  face  upon  a  toad,  from  which 
Outshoots  a  serpent's  tail — the  Manicore, 
A  mixture  grim  of  all  things  odd  and  wild, 
The  fairy-witch-like  song  of  German  eld." 

1  Since  writing  the  foregoing,  I  have  found  in  Am  Urquelle^  vol.  vi.  3, 
May  1895,  a  legend  credited  to  a  book  by  A.  Bondeson,  Historic  Gulbar 
pa  Dal  (Stockholm,  1886),  or  a  story  entitled  "The  Lover  with  a  Green 
Beard,"  which  is  much  the  same  in  incident  as  this.  The  editor,  H.  Feil- 
berg,  notices  the  affinity  of  this  and  other  tales  to  the  Vampyre  and  Burger's 
"  Leonora." 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE 

"  Wherever  beauty  dwells, 
In  gulf  or  aerie  mountains  or  deep  dells, 
Thou  pointest  out  the  way,  and  straight  'tis  won, 
Thou  leddest  Orpheus  through  the  gleams  of  death." 

— KEATS. 

"  Silvestres  homines  sacer  interpres  que  Deorum 
Oedibus  et  victu  deterruit  ORPHEUS. 
Dictus  ob  hoc  lenire  tigres,  rabidosque  Leones." 

— HORACE. 

IT  may  have  happened  to  the  reader,  in  his  travels,  to 
trace  in  some  majestic  mountain-land,  amid  rocky  ravines, 
that  which  was,  perhaps,  in  prehistoric  times  a  terrible 
torrent  or  a  roaring  river.  I  mean,  indeed,  such  a  furious 
flood  as  is  now  unknown  on  earth,  one  which  tore  away 
the  highest  hills  like  trifles,  melting  them  in  a  minute  to 
broad  alluvials,  and  ground  up  the  grandest  granite  cliffs 
to  gravel-dust,  even  as  a  mighty  mill  grates  grain  to 
flour. 

You  trace  the  course  of  the  ancient  river  which  when 
young  vaulted  the  valley,  which  it  had  made,  on  either 
side  with  overhanging  precipices,  which  now  bend  like 
silent  mourners  over  its  grave.  And  it  seems  to  be  dead 
and  buried  for  ever. 

Yet  it  may  chance  that,  looking  more  deeply  into  its 
course  to  see  if,  perhaps,  some  flakes  of  antique  gold  are 
not  to  be  found  in  the  bed  of  the  old  water-course,  you 
hear  deep  in  some  rocky  crevice  far  below,  and  out  of 
sight,  the  merry  gurgle  or  voice-like  murmur  of  a  spring 
or  unseen  rivulet  which  indicates  that  the  river  of  ancient 

days  is  not  quite  lost  in  the  land.     Unsuspected,  like  the 

225  p 


226  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

sapphire  serpent  of  Eastern  legend,  that  diamond-clear 
rivulet  has  wound  its  mysterious  course  deep  in  the  earth 
for  ages,  and,  following  its  sound,  you  may  come  to  some 
place  where  it  again  leaps  forth  into  sunlight — little,  in- 
deed, yet  ever  beautiful.  It  is  almost  touching  to  see 
that  diminished  rill  creeping  timidly  round  the  feet  of 
giant  boulders  which  it  once  rent  in  sport  from  the 
mighty  rocks,  and  rolled  into  what  were  for  it  in  its 
whilom  power,  mere  marbles.  It  is  small  now,  and  very 
obscure,  yet  it  lives  and  is  ever  beautiful. 

Such  a  stream,  which  I  traced  yesterday  in  an  ancient 
gorge  in  the  heart  of  the  Apennines,  where  the  grey 
tower  of  Rocca  looks  down  on  the  mysterious  Ponte  del 
Diavolo  of  the  twelfth  century — the  most  picturesque 
bridge  in  Italy — forcibly  reminds  me  of  the  human 
stream  of  old  tradition  which  once,  as  marvellous  mytho- 
logy or  grand  religion,  roared  and  often  raged  over  all 
this  region,  driving  before  it,  and  rending  away,  all  the 
mighty  rocks  of  human  will,  now  tearing  down  and  anon 
forming  stupendous  cliffs  of  observances,  and  vast  mono- 
liths of  legend  and  faith.  Such  were  the  Etruscan  and 
early  Roman  cults,  which  drove  before  them  and  engulfed 
irresistibly  all  the  institutions  of  their  time,  and  then 
disappeared  so  utterly  that  men  now  believe  that  the 
only  remaining  record  of  their  existence  is  in  their  tombs 
or  rocky  relics  of  strange  monuments. 

But  by  bending  low  to  earth,  or  seeking  among  the 
people,  we  may  hear  the  murmur  of  a  hidden  stream  of 
legend  and  song  which,  small  and  shrunken  as  it  may  be, 
is  still  the  veritable  river  of  the  olden  time.  Many  such 
streams  are  running  in  many  lands,  and  that  full  openly 
on  the  earth's  surface,  but  this  to  which  I  specially  refer 
is  strangely  occult  and  deeply  hidden,  for  to  find  it  we 
must  seek  among  the  strege  and  stregoni,  or  witches  and 
sorcerers,  who  retain  as  dark  secrets  of  their  own,  mar- 
vellous relics  of  the  myths  of  the  early  ages.  These  are, 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE  227 

in  many  cases,  so  strangely  quaint  and  beautiful  that  they 
would  seem  to  have  kept  something  of  an  original  perfume 
which  has  utterly  perished  in  the  dried  flowers  of  tradition 
preserved  in  books,  or  even  by  poets. 

This  seems  to  me  to  be  the  case  with  the  incantation 
to  Orpheus,  which  is  now  before  me,  written  in  rude 
dialect,  which  indicates,  so  to  speak,  the  depth  of  the 
earth  from  which  it  was  taken.  I  had  asked  the  woman 
who  gave  it  to  me  whether  she  knew  such  a  name  as 
that  of  Orpheus  or  Orfeo,  as  connected  with  music.  This 
was  the  reply  which  I  received  : 

ORFEO. 

Scongiurazione  a  Orfeo  per  suonarc  bene  uno  Zuffolo.  This 
is  the  invocation  to  Orpheus  for  him  who  would  fain  become 
a  good  player  on  the  shepherd's  pipe.1 

SCONGIURAZIONE. 

"  Ogni  giorno  io  mi  metto 
Questo  zuffolo  a  suonare, 
Per  poterlo  bene  inparare, 
E  a  preso  dei  maestri 
Per  potermi  fare  insegnare, 
Ma  non  so  come  mi  fare, 
Nella  testa  non  mi  vuole  entrare, 
A  che  partito  mi  devo  apigliare : 
Io  non  so  come  mi  fare ; 
Ma  tu  Orfeo  che  siei  tanto  chapace 
Per  Io  zuffolo,  e  il  violino, 
Suoni  bene  pur  Io  organino, 
La  chitarra  e  il  mandolino, 
La  gran  cassa,  il  trombone, 
Suoni  bene  Io  clarino, 
E  non  'ce  uno  strumento 
Che  tu  Orfeo  tu  non  sia 

1  Zufolo—*  rude  flageolet,  such  as  is  still  commonly  played  by  the 
shepherds  all  over  Italy. 


228  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Chapace  di  bene  suonare, 

Per  la  musicha  siei  molto  bravo, 

E  tu  ai  ogni  potenza, 

Che  da  diavoli  siei  protetto, 

Dunque  insegnami  come  fare, 

Questo  zuffolo  va  scongiurare, 

Per  poter  bene  suonare, 

Questo  zuffolo  lo  prendo, 

Sotto  terra  io  lo  metto, 

E  tre  giorni  ce  lo  fo  stare, 

A  fine  che  tu  Orfeo, 

Bene  tu  me  lo  facci  a  suonare ; 

Che  tanto  siei  amante 

Di  suonare  sarai  amante, 

Pur  d'insegnare  per  quanto 

Ai  soferto  la  tua  Auradice, 

Dal  inferno  non  potere  levare, 

Ma  vollo  lei  a  preghare, 

Che  ti  aiuti  questo  zuffolo  volere  suonare, 

E  tu  che  sempre  e  di  musicha, 

Siei  chapace  che  fino 

Le  bestie  ti  vengono  ascoltare, 

Orfeo  !  Orfeo  !  ti  prego ; 

Orfeo !  volermi  insegnare 

Questo  zuffolo  bene  suonare, 

E  appena  suonero, 

II  maestro  musicho  Orfeo  ringraziero, 

E  a  tutti  sempre  faro, 

Sapere  a  chi  mi  a  dato, 

Questo  talento  che  le  stato, 

Orfeo  dal  inferno  lo  scongiurato, 

E  per  la  musicha  o  tanto, 

Pasione  al  mio  zuffolo  a  dato, 

Lezione  e  lo  zuffolo  e  un  strumento 

Che  ne  son  tanto  inamorato 

Che  dai  miei  vecchi  era  molto  ramentato, 

E  sempre  mi  dicevano, 

Se  dinparar  lo  non  siei  chapace, 

Orfeo  devi  scongiurare ; 

E  cosi  io  faro, 

E  Orfeo  preghero  ! " 


ORPHEUS  AND  BURY  DICE  229 

TRANSLATION. 

"  Every  day  I  try,  and  yet 
I  cannot  play  the  flageolet ; 
Many  masters  I  have  sought, 
Naught  I  learned  from  all  they  taught ; 
I  am  dull,  'tis  very  true, 
And  I  know  not  what  to  do 
In  this  strait,  unless  it  be, 
Great  Orpheus,  to  come  to  thee ; 
Thou  who  the  greatest  skill  didst  win, 
On  flageolet  and  violin, 
Who  play'st  the  organ,  pealing  far, 
The  mandolin  and  the  guitar, 
Thou  wak'st  the  clarion's  stirring  tone, 
The  rattling  drum  and  loud  trombone ; 
On  earth  there  is  no  instrument, 
Whate'er  it  be,  to  mortals  sent, 
Enchanting  every  sense  away, 
Which  thou,  O  Orpheus  !  canst  not  play  ; 
Great  must  thy  skill  in  music  be, 
Since  even  the  demons  favour  thee ; 
And  since  on  this  my  heart  is  set, 
Enchant,  I  pray,  this  flageolet, 
And  that  its  tones  may  sweetly  sound, 
I  bury  it  beneath  the  ground ; 
Three  days  shall  it  lie  hidden  thus, 
Till  thou,  O  mighty  Orpheus ! 
Shalt  wake  in  it  by  magic  spell 
The  music  which  thou  lov'st  so  well. 
I  conjure  thee  by  all  the  woe 
Which  grieved  thy  soul  so  long  ago  ! 
And  pain,  when  thy  Auradice 
From  the  dark  realm  thou  couldst  not  free, 
To  grant  me  of  thy  mighty  will 
That  I  may  play  this  pipe  with  skill, 
Even  as  thou  hast  played  before ; 
For,  as  the  story  runs,  of  yore, 
Whenever  thou  didst  wake  its  sound, 
The  forest  beasts  came  raptured  round. 
Orpheus  !  Orpheus  !  I  pray, 
Orpheus  !  teach  me  how  to  play  ! 


230  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

And  when  sweet  music  forth  I  bring, 
On  every  chord  thy  name  shall  ring, 
And  every  air  which  charms  shall  be 
A  hymn  of  thanks,  great  lord,  to  thee  ! 
And  unto  all  I'll  make  it  known, 
I  owe  it  all  to  thee  alone, 
And  of  the  wondrous  skill  I'll  tell, 
Which  mighty  Orpheus  won  from  hell. 
And  by  the  music,  and  the  power, 
Of  passion  in  me,  from  this  hour 
Henceforth  in  this  sweet  instrument 
I  shall  be  ever  well  content ; 
For  now,  I  do  remember  well, 
What  'twas  my  father  oft  would  tell, 
That  all  who  would  learn  music  thus 
Must  conjure  mighty  Orpheus, 
Even  as  I  have  done  to-day, 
So  I  to  him  will  ever  pray." 

To  which  the  manuscript  adds  in  prose : 

"  Thus  the  peasants  do  when  they  do  not  succeed  in  playing 
the  shepherd's  pipe,  which  they  esteem  beyond  any  other 
instrument." 

To  any  one  who  fully  feels  and  understands  what  is 
meant  to  be  conveyed  by  this  incantation — and  a  great 
deal  is  expressed  by  passionate  singing  and  a  deep  thrill- 
ing intonation  which  the  text  does  not  give — my  transla- 
tion will  appear  to  be  quite  accurate.  But,  in  any  case, 
no  scholar  or  poet  can  deny  that  there  is  in  it  a  strange 
depth  of  classic  feeling,  or  of  old  Roman  romance,  not 
strained  at  second-hand  through  books,  but  evidently 
drawn  from  rude  antiquity,  which  is  as  fresh  in  its  ring 
as  it  is  marvellous. 

It  may  be  observed  as  exquisitely  curious  that  in  this 
incantation  the  peasant  who  wishes  to  become  a  skilled 
performer  on  the  flageolet  buries  it  for  three  days  in  the 
ground,  invoking  Orpheus  by  what  the  spirit  suffered  in 
losing  Eurydice,  and  subsequently  distinctly  declaring 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE  231 

that  he  won  or  conjured  his  great  musical  power  from 
Hades,  which  means  that  by  the  penance  and  loss,  and 
his  braving  the  terrors  of  the  Inferno,  he  gained  skill. 
This  is  a  mighty  element  of  the  myth  in  all  its  forms,  in 
all  ages,  in  every  country.  The  burying  the  instrument 
for  three  days  probably  typifies  the  three  days  during 
which  Orpheus  was  in  hell. 

It  may  be  observed  that  Eurydice  has  become  Auradice 
in  the  incantation,  in  which  there  is  probably  an  intima- 
tion of  Aura,  a  light  wind  or  zephyr.  Air  is  so  naturally 
associated  with  music.  This,  by  a  very  singular  coin- 
cidence, yet  certainly  due  to  mere  chance,  recalls  the 
invocation  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Air,  given  by  Bulwer  in 
"  The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii "  : 

"  Spectre  of  the  viewless  air, 
Hear  the  blind  Thessalian's  prayer, 
By  Erichtho's  art  that  shed 
Dews  of  life  when  life  was  fled, 
By  lone  Ithaca's  wise  king, 
Who  could  wake  the  crystal  spring 
To  the  voice  of  prophecy 
By  the  lost  F.urydice ! 
Summoned  from  the  shadowy  throng, 
At  the  muse-son's  magic  song  : 
Come,  wild  Demon  of  the  Air, 
Answer  to  thy  votary's  prayer." 

It  is  indeed  very  remarkable  that  in  the  call  to  the  God 
of  Music,  who  is  in  certain  wise  a  spirit  of  the  air,  as  in 
that  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Air  himself,  both  are  invoked : 

"By  the  lost  Eurydice!" 

If  it  could  be  shown  that  Bulwer  owed  this  poem  and 
allusion  to  any  ancient  work  or  tradition,  I  should  be 
tempted  to  believe  that  the  popular  invocation  was  derived 
from  some  source  in  common  with  the  latter.  There  is 
indeed  a  quaint  naive  drollery  in  the  word  Auradice— 
"  Air-tell !  "  or  "  Air-declare  !  "  which  adapts  it  better  to 
the  spirit  of  Bulwer's  poem,  in  which  the  air  is  begged  to 


232  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

tell  something,  than  to  the  Orphean  or  Orphic  spell.  It 
may  be  that  the  Orphic  oracles  were  heard  in  the  voice 
of  the  wind,  apropos  of  which  latter  there  is  a  strange 
Italian  legend  and  an  incantation  to  be  addressed  to  all 
such  mystic  voices  of  the  night,  which  almost  seems  re- 
echoed in  "  Lucia  "  : 

"  Verrano  a  te  sull'  aure, 
I  miei  sospiri  ardenti, 
Udrai  nell  mar  che  mormora 
L'eco  de  miei  lamenti  !  " 

It  is  worth  observing  that  this  tradition,  though  derived 
from  the  Romagna,  was  given  to  me  in  Florence,  and 
that  one  of  the  sculptures  on  the  Campanile  represents 
Orpheus  playing  the  pipe  to  wild  beasts.  It  is  said  that 
in  the  Middle  Ages  the  walls  of  churches  were  the  picture- 
books  of  the  people,  where  they  learned  all  they  knew  of 
Bible  legends,  but  not  unfrequently  gathered  many  strange 
tales  from  other  sources.  The  sculptors  frequently  chose  of 
their  own  will  scenes  or  subjects  which  were  well  known 
to  the  multitude,  who  would  naturally  be  pleased  with 
the  picturing  what  they  liked,  and  it  may  be  that  Orpheus 
was  familiar  then  to  all.  In  any  case,  the  finding  him  in 
a  witch  incantation  is  singularly  in  accordance  with  the 
bas-relief  of  the  Cathedral  of  Florence,  which  again  fits 
in  marvellously  well  with  Byron's  verse : 

"  Florence  !  whom  I  will  love  as  well 
As  ever  yet  was  said  or  sung, 
Since  Orpheus  sang  his  spouse  from  hell, 
Whilst  thou  art  fair  and  I  am  young. 

"  Sweet  Florence  !  those  were  pleasant  times, 
When  worlds  were  staked  for  ladies'  eyes. 
Had  bards  as  many  realms  as  rhymes, 
Thy  charms  might  raise  new  Antonies  !  " 

True  it  is  that  this  Florence  seems  to  have  had  dazzling 
eyes  and  ringlets  curled ;  and  it  is  on  the  other  hand  not 
true  that  Orpheus  sang  his  spouse  from  hell — he  only 


ORPHEUS  AND  BURY  DICE  233 

tried  to  do  it.  And  it  is  worth  noting  that  one  of  the 
commonest  halfpenny  pamphlets  sold  in  Florence,  which 
is  to  be  found  at  every  public  stand,  is  a  poem  called 
"  Orpheus  and  Eurydice."  This  fact  alone  renders  it 
less  singular  that  such  classical  incantations  should  exist. 

The  early  Christians,  notwithstanding  their  antipathy 
to  heathen  symbols,  retained  with  love  that  of  Orpheus. 
Orpheus  was  represented  as  a  gentle  youth,  charming 
wild  beasts  with  the  music  of  the  pipe,  or  as  surrounded 
by  them  and  sheep ;  hence  he  was,  like  the  Good  Shep- 
herd, the  favourite  type  of  Christ.  He  had  also  gone 
down  into  shadowy  Hades,  and  returned  to  be  sacrificed 
by  the  heathen,  unto  whose  rites  he  would  not  conform. 

Miss  Roma  Lister  found  traces  of  Orpheus  among  the 
peasantry  about  Rome,  in  a  pretty  tradition.  They  say 
that  there  is  a  spirit  who,  when  he  plays  the  zufolo  or 
flageolet  to  flocks,  attracts  them  by  his  music  and  keeps 
them  quiet. 

"  Now  there  were  certain  shepherd  families  and  their  flocks 
together  in  a  place,  and  it  was  agreed  that  every  night  by 
turns,  each  family  should  guard  the  flocks  of  all  the  rest.  But 
it  was  observed  that  one  mysterious  family  all  turned  in  and 
went  to  sleep  when  their  turn  came  to  watch,  and  yet  every 
morning  every  sheep  was  in  its  place.  Then  it  was  found  that 
this  family  had  a  spirit  who  played  the  zufolo^  and  herded  the 
flock  by  means  of  his  music." 

The  name  is  wanting,  but  Orpheus  was  there.  The 
survival  of  the  soul  of  Orpheus  in  the  zufolo  or  pipe,  and 
in  the  sprite,  reveals  the  mystic  legend  which  indicates 
his  existing  to  other  times.  In  this  it  is  said  that  his 
head  after  death  predicted  to  Cyrus  the  Persian  monarch 
that  he  too  would  be  killed  by  a  woman  (Consule  Leoutc, 
de  var.  histor.,  lib.  i.  cap.  17 ;  de  Orphei  Tumnlo  in  monte 
Olympo,  &c.,  cited  by  Kornmann  de  Miraculis  Mortu- 
orum,  cap.  19).  The  legend  of  Orpheus,  or  of  a  living 
wife  returning  from  another  world  to  visit  an  afflicted 


234  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

husband,  passed  to  other  lands,  as  may  be  seen  in  a  book 
by  Georgius  Sabinus,  in  Notts  ad  Metamorp.  Ovidii, 
lib.  x.  de  descensu  Orphei  ad  Inferos,  in  which  he  tells 
how  a  Bavarian  lady,  after  being  buried,  was  so  moved 
by  her  husband's  grief  that  she  came  to  life  again,  and 
lived  with  him  for  many  years,  semper  tamen  fuisse  tris- 
tem  ac pallidem — but  was  always  sad  and  pale.  However, 
they  got  on  very  well  together  for  a  long  time,  till  one 
evening/^/  vesperi potum — after  he  had  taken  his  evening 
drink — being  somewhat  angry  at  the  housemaid,  he  scolded 
her  with  unseemly  words.  Now  it  was  the  condition  of 
his  wife's  coming  back  to  life  and  remaining  with  him 
that  he  was  never  to  utter  an  improper  expression  (ut 
que  deinceps  ipse  abstineret  blasphemis  conviciandi  ver- 
bis).  And  when  the  wife  heard  her  husband  swear,  she 
disappeared,  soul  and  body,  and  that  in  such  a  hurry 
that  her  dress  (which  was  certainly  of  fine  old  stiff 
brocade)  was  found  standing  up,  and  her  shoes  under  it. 
A  similar  legend,  equally  authentic,  may  be  found  in  the 
"  Breitmann  Ballads,"  a  work,  I  believe,  by  an  American 
author.  On  which  subject  the  learned  Flaxius  remarks 
that  "  if  all  the  men  who  swear  after  their  evening 
refreshments  were  to  lose  their  wives,  widowers  would 
become  a  drug  in  the  market." 

Of  the  connection  between  aura  as  air,  and  as  an  air 
in  music,  I  have  something  curious  to  note.  Since  the 
foregoing  was  written  I  bought  in  Florence  a  large  wooden 
cup,  it  may  be  of  the  eleventh  century  or  earlier,  known 
as  a  misnra,  or  measure  for  grain,  formerly  called  a  modio, 
in  Latin  modus,  which  word  has  the  double  meaning  of 
measure  for  objects  solid  or  liquid,  and  also  for  music. 
Therefore  there  are  on  the  wooden  measure  four  female 
figures,  each  holding  a  musical  instrument,  and  all  with 
their  garments  blowing  in  one  direction,  as  in  a  high  wind, 
doubtless  to  signify  aura,  Italian  aria,  air  or  melody. 
These  madonnas  of  the  four  modes  are  rudely  but  very 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE  235 

gracefully  sketched  by  a  bold  master-hand.  They  repre- 
sent, in  fact,  Eurydice  quadrupled. 

There  is  a  spirit  known  in  the  Toscana  Romagna  as 
Turabiig.  He  is  the  guardian  of  the  reeds  or  canes,  or 
belongs  to  them  like  the  ancient  Syrinx.  There  is  a 
curious  ceremony  and  two  invocations  referring  to  him. 
Ivy  and  rue  are  specially  sacred  to  him.  One  of  these 
two  invocations  is  solely  in  reference  to  playing  the  zufolo, 
partly  that  the  applicant  may  be  inspired  to  play  well, 
and  secondly,  because  the  spirit  is  supposed  to  be 
attracted  by  the  sound  of  the  instrument.  The  very 
ancient  and  beautiful  idea  that  divinities  are  invoked  or 
attracted  by  music,  is  still  found  in  the  use  of  the  organ 
in  churches. 

A  large  portion  of  the  foregoing  on  Orpheus  formed, 
with  "  Intialo/'  the  subject  of  a  paper  by  me  in  Italian, 
which  was  read  in  the  Collegio  Romana  at  Rome  at  the 
first  meeting  of  the  Italian  Societa  Nazionale  per  le  Tradi- 
zioni  Popolari  Italiani,  in  November  1893.  Of  which 
society  I  may  here  mention  that  it  is  under  the  special 
patronage  of  her  Majesty  Margherita  the  Queen  of  Italy, 
who  is  herself  a  zealous  and  accomplished  folklorist  and 
collector — "  special  patronage  "  meaning  here  not  being  a 
mere  figurehead,  but  first  officer — and  that  the  president 
is  Count  Angelo  de  Gubernatis. 

I  believe  that  the  establishment  of  this  society  will  con- 
tribute vastly  to  shake  in  Italy  the  old-fashioned  belief 
that  to  be  a  person  of  the  most  respectable  learning  it  is 
quite  sufficient  to  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  a  few 
"  classic  "  writers,  be  they  Latin,  French,  or  Italian,  and 
that  it  is  almost  a  crime  to  read  anything  which  does  not 
directly  serve  as  a  model  or  a  copy  whereby  to  "  refine 
our  style."  As  regards  which  the  whole  world  is  now 
entering  on  a  new  renaissance,  the  conflict  between  the 
stylists  and  the  more  liberally  enlightened  having  already 
begun. 


236  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

But  Orpheus,  with  the  ecclesiastical  witch-doctors, 
was  soon  turned  into  a  diabolical  sorcerer;  and  Leloyer 
writes  of  him :  "  He  was  the  greatest  wizard  who  ever 
lived,  and  his  writings  boil  over  with  praises  of  devils  and 
filthy  loves  of  gods  and  mortals,  .  .  .  who  were  all  only 
devils  and  witches." 

That  Eve  brought  death  and  sin  into  the  world  by 
eating  one  apple,  or  a  fig,  or  orange,  or  Chinese  nectarine, 
or  the  fruit  of  the  banana  tree,  or  a  pear,  a  peach,  or 
everything  pomological,  if  we  are  to  believe  all  translators 
of  the  Bible,  coincides  strongly  with  the  fact  that  Eury- 
dice  was  lost  for  tasting  a  pomegranate.  "  Of  the  precise 
graft  of  the  espalier  of  Eden,"  says  the  author  of  the 
'  Ingoldsby  Legends/  "  Sanchoniathon,  Manetho,  and 
Berosus  are  undecided;  the  best  informed  Talmudists 
have,  however  .  .  .  pronounced  it  a  Ribstone  pippin," 
Eve  being  a  rib.  The  ancients  were  happy  in  being 
certain  that  their  apple  was  one  of  Granada. 

"  Hcec  fabula  docet"  writes  our  Flaxius,  "that  mysteries 
abound  in  every  myth.  Now,  whether  Orpheus  was  literally 
the  first  man  who  ever  went  to  hell  for  a  woman  I  know  not, 
but  well  I  ween  that  he  was  not  the  last,  as  the  majority  of 
French  novelists  of  the  present  day  are  chiefly  busy  in  proving, 
very  little,  as  it  seems  to  me,  either  to  the  credit  of  their 
country  or  of  themselves.  But  there  are  others  who  read  in 
this  tale  a  dark  and  mysterious  forewarning  to  the  effect  that 
ladies  d  la  mode  who  fall  in  love  with  Italian  musicians  or 
music-masters,  and  especially  those  who  let  themselves  and 
their  fortunes  be  sifflees  (especially  the  fortunes),  should  not 
be  astonished  when  the  fate  of  Eurydice  befalls  them.  Pass 
on,  beloved,  to  another  tale  ! 

"  '  Walk  on,  amid  these  mysteries  strange  and  old, 
The  strangest  of  them  all  is  yet  to  come  ! '  " 


INTIA\LO 

THE  SPIRIT   OF   THE   HAUNTING  SHADOW 

"  O  ombra  che  dalla  luce  siei  uscita, 
Misuri  il  passo  al  Sole,  all'uom  la  vita." 

"  Umbram  suam  metuere." 

"  Badate. 
La  vostra  ombra  vi  avra  fatto  paura." 

— Filippo  Pananti. 

"  There  is  a  feeling  which,  perhaps,  all  have  felt  at  times  ;  ...  it  is  a 
strong  and  shuddering  impression  which  Coleridge  has  embodied  in  his 
own  dark  and  supernatural  verse  that  Something  not  of  earth  is  behind  us 
— that  if  we  turned  our  gaze  backward  we  should  behold  that  which  would 
make  the  heart  as  a  bolt  of  ice,  and  the  eye  shrivel  and  parch  within  its 
socket.  And  so  intense  is  the  fancy,  that  when  we  turn,  and  all  is  void, 
from  that  very  void  we  could  shape  a  spectre  as  fearful  as  the  image  our 
terror  had  foredrawn." — BULWER,  The  Disowned. 

THE  resemblance  and  the  relation  of  the  shadow  to  the 
body  is  so  strangely  like  that  of  the  body  to  the  soul, 
that  it  is  very  possible  that  it  first  suggested  the  latter. 
It  is  born  of  light,  yet  is  in  itself  a  portion  of  the  mystery 
of  darkness;  it  is  the  facsimile  of  man  in  every  outline, 
but  in  outline  alone;  filled  in  with  uniform  sombre  tint, 
it  imitates  our  every  action  as  if  in  mockery,  which  of 
itself  suggests  a  goblin  or  sprite,  while  in  it  all  there  is 
something  of  self,  darkling  and  dream-like,  yet  never 
leaving  us.  It  is  only  evident  in  brightest  hours,  like  a 
skeleton  at  an  Egyptian  feast,  and  it  has  neither  more 
nor  less  resemblance  to  man  than  the  latter.  Hence  it 
came  that  the  strange  "  dwellers  by  the  Nile"  actually 


238  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

loved  both  shade  and  death  by  association,  and  so  it 
happened  that 

"  Full  many  a  time 

They  seemed  half  in  love  with  easeful  Death  ; 
Called  him  soft  names  in  many  a  mused  rhyme," 

while  they  made  of  the  cool  shadow  a  portion  of  the  soul 
itself,  or  rather  one  of  the  seven  or  eight  entities  of  which 
man  consisted,  these  being — Khat,  a  body ;  Ba,  the  spirit ; 
Khon}  the  intelligence;  Kha'ibit,  the  shadow;  Ren,  the 
name ;  Ka}  eternal  vitality ;  Ab,  the  heart ;  and  Sahfi,  the 
mask  or  mummy. 

It  is  extremely  interesting  to  consider,  in  connection 
with  this  Egyptian  doctrine,  the  fact,  illustrated  by  every 
writer  on  Etruscan  antiquity,  that  these  ancient  dwellers 
in  Italy,  when  they  represented  the  departed,  or  the  dead, 
as  living  again  on  a  tomb,  added  to  the  name  of  the 
deceased  the  word  HinthiaL  This  I  once  believed  meant 
simply  a  ghost  or  spirit.  I  had  no  other  association  with 
the  name. 

I  inquired  for  a  long  time  if  there  was  any  such  name 
as  Hintial  for  a  ghost  among  the  people,  and  could  not 
find  it.  At  last  my  chief  agent  succeeded  in  getting  from 
sources  to  me  unknown,  but,  as  in  all  cases,  partly 
from  natives  of  the  Toscana  Romagna,  or  Vol  terra,  and 
at  different  times,  very  full  information  regarding  this 
mysterious  being,  which  I  combine  as  follows  : 

INTIALO. 

"  This  is  a  spirit  in  human  form  who  shows  himself  in  any 
shadow,1  and  diverts  himself  by  inspiring  terror  in  a  sorcerer, 
or  in  any  one  who  has  committed  a  crime.  He  causes  a 
fearful  shadow  to  be  ever  present  to  the  man,  and  addresses 
him  thus : 

1  //  suo  spirito  Jo  fa  presentare  qualunque  ombra,  that  is,  in  any  or  varied 
shadow ;  a  haunting  shade,  and  not  strictly  the  mere  shadow  of  the  one 
who  is  haunted. 


INTIALO  239 

//  demone  al  Stregone. 

"  Vile — tu  non  potrai 
Avere  mai  bene— avrai 
Sempre  la  mia  ombra 
In  tua  presenza,  e  saro 
Vendicato  .  .  . 1 

"  Tu  non  potrai  giammai 
Essere  solo,  che  Tombra 
Mia  ovunque  andrai 
Ti  seguira  :  tu  non  potrai 
Essere  mai  solo,  tu  sarai 
Sempre  in  mio  potere ! 

"  Al  mio  incantesimo  non  avrai 
Ne  pace  ne  bene,  al  mio 
Incanto  tu  tremerai, 
Te  e  tutta  la  casa  dove  ti  troverai, 
Se  sei  in  mezzo  alia  strada, 
Tu  tremerai — 
Te  e  tutta  la  terra ! 

"  Al  mio  volere  tu  andrai 
Come  cane  alia  pagliaio, 
Alia  voce  del  suo  maestro ; 
Tu  me  vorrai 
Vedere,  e  non  mi  vedrai, 
Mi  sentirai — 
Vedrai  sola  la  tua  ombra. 

"  Tu  sei  cattivo  e  scelerato, 
Tu  sei  avelenato, 
Nel  cuore  e  nell  anima, 
E  piu  bene  non  avrai, 
Sei  avelenato  nel  cuore, 
E  nell  anima,  vai, 
Tu  siei  maladetto ; 
E  il  spirito  sempre  ti  seguira 
.Ovunque  tu  vada ! " 

1  That  which  here  follows  of  the  invocation  was  obtained  subsequently 
by  my  agent,  I  think,  from  another  source.  What  precedes  is  evidently 
only  a  fragment. 


240  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

TRANSLATION. 
The  Demon  to  the  Sorcerer. 

"  Wretch  !  long  lost  in  wickedness, 
Thou  shalt  ne'er  have  happiness  ; 
Though  to  distant  lands  thou'lt  flee, 
Still  my  shadow  thou  shalt  see, 
And  I  will  revenged  be. 

44  Solitude  thou  ne'er  shalt  know, 
Where  thou  goest  my  shade  shall  go, 
And  wherever  thou  mayst  fly 
Still  the  shadow  will  be  by — 
Ne'er  alone  at  any  hour, 
And  for  ever  in  my  power. 

"  By  my  spell  thou  ne'er  shalt  know 
Peace  or  joy  on  earth  below, 
At  my  charm  a  deadly  fear 
Shall  seize  on  all  men  standing  near ; 
Thou  shalt  tremble  in  thy  home, 
Or  if  thou  abroad  shouldst  roam, 
Shivering  with  fear  thou'lt  be, 
And  the  earth  shall  shake  with  thee. 

1  At  my  bidding  thou  must  stir, 
And  hasten  as  the  vilest  cur 
Must  hasten  when  his  master  calls, 
And  leave  his  straw  amid  the  stalls ; 
And  if  thou  wouldst  gaze  on  me, 
Still  my  form  thou  shalt  not  see  ; 
Thou  shalt  feel  when  I  am  here, 
Feel  me  in  thy  deadly  fear, 
Yet  only  see  thy  shadow  near. 

"  Thou  art  vile  and  wicked  too, 
Thou  art  poisoned  through  and  through  ; 
In  thy  heart  and  in  thy  soul, 
Cursedness  is  in  the  whole, 


INTIALO  241 

In  thy  soul  and  in  thy  heart, 
Poison  steeped  in  every  part. 
Cursed  ever  !  now,  depart ! 
Yet  wherever  thou  shalt  flee 
I  will  ever  follow  thee  ! 

"  Then  this  man  will  be  in  terror,  and  he  will  ever  see  the 
shadow  before  him  by  day  and  by  night,  and  thus  he  will  have 
no  peace,  and  yet  this  is  all  the  time  the  spirit  of  Intialo. 

"  Now,  when  he  is  thus  tormented  for  some  past  misdeed, 
and  he  feels  himself  haunted,  as  it  were,  by  the  shadow  of  the 
one  whom  he  has  wronged,  when  he  finds  at  last  that  he  is 
not  pursued,  indeed,  by  it,  but  by  Intialo,  then  he  shall  repeat 
the  Exorcism : 

Scongiurazione  di  Intialo. 

"  Intialo  !  Intialo  !  che  quando 
Una  persona  ai  preso, 
O  per  seguitare  le  ingombri 
Le  ingombri  sempre  la  cammina. 

"  Intialo !  Intialo  !  se  libero 
II  passo  mi  lascerai  meglio 
Per  te  sara,  se  non  mi  verrai 
Lasciare  ti  faccio  sapere 
Tu  sarai  sempre  in  mio  potere. 

"  Intialo  !  Intialo  !  ti  faccio  sapere, 
Se  metto  in  opera 
La  mia  scongiurazione, 
Non  ti  lasciero  piu  bene  avere, 
E  ogni  mi  a  chiamata 
Ti  faro  correre 
Come  chane  al  pagliaio, 

"Intialo!  Intialo! 
Ti  faccio  sapere 
Che  tu  pensi  a  fare 
II  tuo  dovere, 

Se  ancora  mi  viene  a  tormentare 
Muso  di  porco  tu  possa  diventare. 


242  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Intialo  !  Intialo  ! 
Tu  siei  furbo  e  maligno, 
Ma  io  me  ne  infischio, 
Perche  io  sono  di  te, 
Molto  piu  maligno. 

"  Intialo  !  Intialo  !  ti  prego 
Di  non  mi  piu  tormentare 
Se  vuoi  aver  bene, 
Se  no  ti  acquisterai 
Delle  pene —  e  questo  sara 
II  tuo  guadagno. 

"  Intialo  !  Intialo  ! 
Con  tutta  la  tua  furberia, 
Non  sai  ancora 
Che  io  son  protetto 
Da  una  bella  stregha 
Che  mi  adora. 

"  Intialo  !  Intialo  ! 
Se  piii  ne  vuoi  sapere 
Vieni  sta  sera, 
Vieni  a  mezza  notte, 
Viene  di  dove  sei, 
Te  Io  faro  vedere, 
Vieno  sotto  'quel  noce 
E  tu  Io  vedrai. 

"  Intialo!  Intialo! 
La  mezza  notte  in  punto, 
Noi  Tabbiamo, 
E  ti  vedo  (vedro)  appogiato 
Al  noce  che  credi  di  vedere, 
Vedere  Pombra  mia, 
E  vedi  1'ombra  tua  stessa  ! 

"Intialo!  Intialo! 
Dentro  al  mio  seno 
Quattro  cose  tengo, 
Che  mi  fanno  vedere, 
E  non  son  veduto, 
Ellera,  pane, 
Sale  e  ruta, 
E  la  mia  buona  fortuna. 


INTIALO  243 

Intialo !  Intialo  ! 
Non  ti  voglio  dire, 
Perche  io  voglio 
Andare  a  dormire ; 
Ma  solo  ti  ho  fatto 
Ti  ho  fatto  vedere 
Che  non  son'  in  poter  tuo, 
Ma  tu  siei  in  mio  potere." 


2'he  Exorcism  of  Intialo. 

"  Intialo  !  it  is  known 
When  thou  followest  any  one, 
Be  the  victim  whom  he  may, 
Thou  art  ever  in  his  way. 

"  Intialo— hear !  if  free 
Thou  wilt  leave  the  road  to  me, 
Better  for  thee  shall  it  be ; 
If  thou  wilt  not,  from  this  hour 
I  will  hold  thee  in  my  power. 

"  Intialo  !  thou  shalt  learn 
That  I'm  wizard  in  my  turn ; 
All  the  power  of  sorcery 
So  about  thee  I  will  throw — 
All  around,  above,  below — 
That  thou  shalt  accursed  be, 
Held  in  fear  and  agony, 
And  as  a  dog  shalt  follow  me. 

"  Intialo  !  thou  shalt  know 
What  thou  art  ere  thou  canst  go  ; 
If  thou  comest  here  again 
To  torment  or  give  me  pain, 
As  thou'dst  make  a  dog  of  me, 
I  will  make  a  swine  of  thee. 

"  Intialo  !  sorry  cheat, 
Filled  with  hate  from  head  to  feet, 
Be  malignant  if  you  will, 
I  am  more  malignant  still, 


244  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"  Intialo  !  for  thy  sake 
I  pray  thee  no  more  trouble  take 
To  torment  me,  for  thy  gain 
Will  only  be  thy  greater  pain, 
For  so  cursed  thou  shalt  be 
That  I  needs  must  pity  thee. 

"  Intialo  !  now,  confess 
That  with  all  thy  craftiness 
Thou  didst  not  know  what  now  I  tell, 
That  I  am  protected  well 
By  a  lovely  witch,  and  she 
Is  mightier  far,  O  fiend  !  than  thee. 

"  Intialo  !  ere  we  go, 
If  thou  more  of  me  wouldst  know, 
Come  at  midnight — I  shall  be 
'Neath  the  witches'  walnut  tree, 
And  what  I  shall  make  thee  see 
I  trow  will  be  enough  for  thee. 

"  Intialo  !  in  that  hour 
Thou  shalt  truly  feel  my  power, 
And  when  thou  at  last  shalt  ween 
That  on  the  witches'  tree  I  lean, 
Then  to  thee  it  shall  be  known 
That  my  shadow  is  thine  own. 

"  Intialo  !  everywhere 
With  me  magic  charms  I  bear, 
Ivy,  bread  and  salt  and  rue, 
And  with  them  my  fortune  too. 

"  Intialo  !  hence  away, 
Unto  thee  no  more  I'll  say  ; 
Now  I  fain  would  go  to  sleep, 
See  that  thou  this  warning  keep. 
I  am  not  in  power  of  thine, 
But  thou  truly  art  in  mine." 

I  had  the  belief,  derived  from  several  writers,  that 
Hinthial  in  Etruscan  meant  simply  a  ghost  or  revenant — 
the  apparition  of  some  one  dead.  But  on  mentioning  my 


INTIALO  245 

discovery  of  this  legend  to  Professor  Milani,  the  Director 
of  the  Archaeological  Museum  in  Florence,  and  the  first 
of  Etruscan  scholars,  he  astonished  me  by  declaring  that 
he  believed  the  word  signified  a  shadow,  and  that  its  real 
meaning  in  its  full  significance  had  apparently  been  mar- 
vellously preserved  in  this  witch-tradition.  Too  little  is 
known  as  yet  of  the  old  Etruscan  language  to  decide  with 
certainty  as  to  anything  in  it,  but  should  this  opinion  of 
Professor  Milani  be  sustained,  it  will  appear  that  at  least 
one  word  of  the  mysterious  tongue  has  existed  till  now  in 
popular  tradition. 

There  will  be  very  few  of  my  readers  who  will  not  be 
struck,  as  I  was,  with  the  remarkable  resemblance  of  the 
terrible  curse  uttered  by  Intialo  to  the  invocation  in  Byron's 
tragedy  of  "  Manfred."  It  is  like  it  in  form,  spirit,  and, 
in  many  places,  even  in  the  very  words.  That  there  was, 
however,  no  knowledge  of  the  English  poem  by  the  Italian 
witch-poet,  and  therefore  no  imitation,  is  plain  from  in- 
trinsic evidence.  As  the  question  is  interesting,  I  will 
here  give  the  Incantation  from  "  Manfred  "  : 


INCANTATION. 

"  When  the  moon  is  on  the  wave, 
And  the  glow-worm  in  the  grass, 

And  the  meteor  on  the  grave, 
And  the  wisp  on  the  morass  ; 

When  the  falling  stars  are  shooting, 

And  the  answered  owls  are  hooting, 

And  the  silent  leaves  are  still 

In  the  shadow  of  the  hill, 

Shall  my  soul  be  upon  thine 

With  a  power  and  with  a  sign. 

"  Though  thy  slumber  may  be  deep, 
Yet  thy  spirit  shall  not  sleep  ; 
There  are  shades  which  shall  not  vanish, 
There  are  thoughts  thou  canst  not  banish ; 


246  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

By  a  power  to  thee  unknown 
Thou  canst  never  be  alone ; 
Thou  art  wrapt  as  with  a  shroud, 
Thou  art  gathered  in  a  cloud, 
And  for  ever  shalt  thou  dwell 
In  the  spirit  of  this  spell. 

"  Though  thou  see'st  me  not  pass  by, 
Thou  shalt  feel  me  with  thine  eye, 
As  a  thing  that,  though  unseen, 
Must  be  near  thee,  and  hath  been ; 
And  when  in  that  secret  dread 
Thou  hast  turned  around  thy  head, 
Thou  shalt  marvel  I  am  not 
As  thy  shadow  on  the  spot, 
And  the  power  which  thou  dost  feel 
Shall  be  what  thou  must  conceal. 

"  And  a  magic  voice  and  verse 
Hath  baptized  thee  with  a  curse, 
And  a  spirit  of  the  air 
Hath  begirt  thee  with  a  snare  ; 
In  the  wind  there  is  a  voice 
Shall  forbid  thee  to  rejoice  ; 
And  to  thee  shall  night  deny 
All  the  quiet  of  her  sky • 
And  the  day  shall  have  a  sun 
Which  shall  make  thee  wish  it  done. 

"  From  thy  false  tears  I  did  distil 
An  essence  which  hath  strength  to  kill ; 
From  thy  own  heart  I  then  did  wring 
The  black  blood  in  its  blackest  spring ; 
From  thy  own  smile  I  snatched  the  snake, 
For  there  it  coiled  as  in  a  brake  ; 
From  thy  own  lip  I  drew  the  charm 
Which  gave  all  these  their  chiefest  harm ; 
In  proving  every  poison  known, 
I  found  the  strongest  was  thine  own. 

"  By  thy  cold  breast  and  serpent  smile, 
By  thy  unfathomed  depths  of  guile, 
By  that  most  seeming  virtuous  eye, 
By  thy  shut  soul's  hypocrisy, 


INTIALO  247 

By  the  perfection  of  thine  art, 

Which  passed  for  human  thine  own  heart ; 

By  thy  delight  in  others'  pain, 

And  by  thy  brotherhood  of  Cain, 

I  call  upon  thee,  and  compel 

Thyself  to  be  thy  proper  hell ! 

"  And  on  thy  head  I  pour  the  vial 
Which  doth  devote  thee  to  this  trial ; 
Not  to  slumber,  nor  to  die, 
Shall  be  in  thy  destiny, 
Though  thy  death  shall  still  seem  near 
To  thy  wish,  but  as  a  fear  ; 
Lo  !  the  spell  now  works  around  thee, 
And  the  clankless  chain  hath  bound  thee  : 
O'er  thy  heart  and  brain  together 
Hath  the  word  been  passed — now  wither  !  " 

The  Italian  poem  forms,  in  its  first  and  second  parts,  a 
drama  as  complete  as  that  of  "  Manfred/'  and,  as  I  hope  to 
render  clear,  one  more  consistent  to  the  leading  idea,  or, 
as  critics  were  wont  to  say,  "  more  coherent  in  the  unities." 
This  idea  in  the  one,  as  in  the  other,  is  that  of  a  powerful 
sorcerer  assailed  by  a  fiend  in  the  form  of  remorse,  and 
that  with  the  most  aggravating  and  insulting  terms  of 
contempt.  In  "  Manfred  "  the  persecutor  tells  his  victim 
that  he  shall  be  his  own  hell,  for  that  of  all  poisons  his 
own  evil  heart  is  the  worst.  The  Italian,  more  direct  and 
less  metaphysical  still,  alludes,  in  the  accusation  by  the 
spirit,  to  no  other  punishment  save  that  of  conscience, 
and  declares  the  magician  to  be  poisoned  through  and 
through  in  himself: 

"  Tu  sei  cattivo  e  scelerato, 
Tu  sei  avvelenato 
Nel  cuore  enell  anima," 

and  bids   him  go  forth  to  be  for  ever  pursued  by  the 
avenger. 

Byron's  poem  is  entirely  based  on  sorcery,  and  is  in- 
tended to  set  forth  the  tremendous  mental  struggles  of  a 


248  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

mind  which  has  risen  above  mankind  with  supernatural 
power,  which  assails  him  with  remorse.  In  the  first 
place  he  simply  goes  to  sleep ;  in  the  grand  finale  he 
resists,  like  Don  Juan,  or,  as  the  saying  is,  "  dies  game  " — 
"  only  this,  and  nothing  more  " — leaving  all  idea  of  an  end, 
object,  moral,  or  system,  entirely  in  the  dark.  "  Man- 
fred "  is  merely  dramatic  for  the  sake  of  stage  effect,  and 
only  excellent  in  impressing  us  with  the  artistic  skill  of 
the  author.  Its  key  is  art  for  the  sake  of  art,  and  effect 
on  anybody,  no  matter  who.  Within  this  limit  it  is  most 
admirable. 

In  both  the  Italian  and  English  poems  the  one  per- 
secuted makes  his  strong  point  of  departure  from  the  dis- 
covery or  knowledge  that  the  persecuted  is  not  one  whom 
he  has  injured,  but  simply  a  mocking  and  tormenting 
sprite.  Thus  the  former  text  declares  that  when  he  finds 
he  is  pursued  simply  by  Intialo,  the  shadow,  which  we 
may  here  translate  "  his  own  imagination,"  he  rallies  with 
a  tremendous  counter-curse  in  which  far  more  is  meant 
than  meets  the  eye.  The  grand  mission  of  the  magus 
or  sorcerer  in  all  the  occult  lore  of  all  antiquity,  whether 
he  appear  as  Buddha  or  any  other  man  of  men,  is  to  con- 
quer all  enemies  by  tremendous  power  won  by  penance 
or  by  iron  will.  A  favourite  means  of  tormenting  the 
enemy  or  fiend  is  to  awaken  the  conscience  of  the  magician, 
or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  to  tempt  him  to  sin,  as  Satan 
did  Christ.  But  even  conscience  loses  its  power  when  we 
feel  that  the  foe  is  exaggerating  our  sins,  and  only  urging 
them  for  torment's  sake,  and  especially  when  these  sins 
are  of  a  kind  which  from  a  certain  standpoint  or  code,  are 
not  sins  at  all. 

And  here  we  are  brought  to  a  subject  so  strange  and 
witch-like  that  it  is  difficult  to  discuss  or  make  clear. 
It  is  evident  enough  in  "  Manfred  "  that  the  great  crime 
was  the  hero's  forbidden  love  for  his  sister  Astarte.  This 
it  is  which  crushes  him.  But  it  does  not  appear  from  the 


INTIALO  249 

Italian  (save  to  those  deeply  learned  in  the  darker  secrets 
of  sorcery)  why  or  how  it  is  that  the  one  persecuted  so 
suddenly  revives  and  defies  the  spirit,  turning,  as  it  were, 
his  own  power  against  him.  In  explaining  this,  I  do 
not  in  the  least  conjecture,  guess,  or  infer  anything;  I 
give  the  explanation  as  it  was  understood  by  the  narrator, 
and  as  confirmed  by  other  legends  and  traditions.  It  is 
this  : 

Michelet,  in  La  Sorctirc,  which  amid  much  lunacy  or 
folly  contains  many  truths  and  ingenious  perceptions,  has 
explained  that  the  witchcraft  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  a 
kind  of  mad  despairing  revolt  against  the  wrongs  of 
society,  of  feudalism,  and  the  Church.  It  was  in  very 
truth  the  precursor  of  Protestantism.  Under  the  name 
of  religion  conscience  had  been  abused,  and  artificial  sins, 
dooming  to  hell,  been  created  out  of  every  trifle,  and  out 
of  almost  every  form  of  natural  instincts.  The  reaction 
from  this  (which  was  a  kind  of  nihilism  or  anarchy),  was 
to  declare  the  antithetic  excess  of  free  will.  One  of  the 
forms  of  this  revolt  was  the  belief  that  the  greatest  sor- 
cerers were  born  (ex  filio  et  matre)  from  the  nearest  rela- 
tions, and  that  to  dare  and  violate  all  such  ties  was  to 
conquer  by  daring  will  the  greatest  power.  It  was  the 
strongest  defiance  of  the  morality  taught  by  the  Church, 
therefore  one  of  the  highest  qualifications  for  an  iron- 
willed  magician.  It  is  specially  pointed  out  in  the  legend 
of  Diana  that  she  began  by  such  a  sin,  and  so  came  to  be 
queen  of  the  witches  ;  and  the  same  idea  of  entire  emanci- 
pation or  illumination,  or  freedom  from  all  ties,  is  the  first 
step  to  the  absolute  free  will  which  constitutes  the  very 
basis  of  all  magic.  This,  which  is  repugnant  to  humanity, 
was  actually  exalted  by  the  Persian  Magi  to  a  duty  or 
religious  principle,  and  it  was  the  same  in  Egypt  as  re- 
garded "  first  families."  The  sorcerer  pursued  by  Intialo 
bases  all  his  power  to  resist  on  the  mere  fact  that  he  is 
beloved  by  a  beautiful  witch.  This  is  the  Astarte  of  the 


250  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Italian  drama,  or  a  sister — the  terrible  tie  which  shows 
that  a  man  is  above  conscience,  and  free  from  all  fear  of 
the  powers  that  be,  whether  of  earth  or  air.  By  it  his 
triumph  is  complete.  He  surmounts  the  accusation  of 
being  without  morals  by  utterly  denying  their  existence 
from  a  higher  or  illuminated  point  of  view.  The  magus 
claims  to  rank  with  the  gods,  and  if  a  divinity  creates 
mankind  as  his  children,  and  then  has  a  child  by  a 
woman,  he  is  in  the  same  state  as  the  sorcerer,  according 
to  wizards. 

If  any  reproach  attaches  to  the  employment  of  such  an 
element  in  poetry,  then  Byron  and  Shelley  are  far  more 
to  blame  than  the  Italian  witch-poet,  who  veiled  his 
allusion  with  much  greater  care  than  they  did,  and  who 
had  the  vast  excuse  of  sincere  belief,  while  their  highest 
aim  was  mere  art.  The  wizard-poet  has  his  heart  in 
this  faith,  as  in  a  religion,  and  he  is  one  with  his  hero. 
Manfred  is  at  best  only  a  broken-down  magician  who 
presents  a  few  boldly  dramatic  daring  traits — the  Italian 
sorcerer,  who  is  far  more  defiant  and  fearless,  con- 
quers. "I  am  more  malignant  than  thou  art,"  is  a  ter- 
rible utterance ;  so  is  the  tone  of  affected  pity  for  the 
baffled  tormentor,  in  which  we  detect  a  shade  of  sarcasm 
based  on  overwhelming  triumph.  This  feeling,  be  it  ob- 
served, progresses,  crescendo  forte,  gradually  and  very 
artistically,  from  the  first  verse  to  the  last.  Intialo  has 
threatened  to  make  the  victim  a  sorry  cur  who  comes  at 
a  call ;  the  sorcerer  replies  that  he  will  make  "  a  swine's 
snout"  of  Intialo.  Finally,  he  dares  the  fiend  to  meet 
him  at  midnight  at  the  great  Witches'  Sabbat,  at  the  dread 
walnut-tree  of  Benevento.  Here  the  threats  reach  an 
ingenious  and  terrible  climax,  though  the  form  in  which 
they  are  expressed  is  only  quite  clear  to  the  initiated.  The 
sorcerer  says,  "  When  thou  thinkest  that  thou  see'st  my 
shadow  thou  wilt  behold  thine  own,"  or  in  other  words, 
"  You  who  have  sought  to  torment  me  by  a  shadow  shall 


INTIALO  251 

yourself  be  mocked  by  finding  that  you  are  only  mine." 
This  climax  of  daring  the  fiend  to  meet  him  at  Benevento, 
at  the  tremendous  and  terrible  rendezvous  of  all  the  devils, 
witches,  and  sorcerers,  and  then  and  there  trying  con- 
clusions with  him  in  delusion  and  magic,  or  a  strife  of 
shadows,  while  leaning  against  the  awful  tree  itself,  which 
is  the  central  point  of  the  Italian  Domdaniel,  is  magnifi- 
cently imagined. 

In  Goethe's  "  Faust,"  as  in  Byron's  "  Manfred,"  the  hero 
is  a  magician,  but  he  is  not  in  either  true  to  the  name  or 
character.  The  great  magus  of  early  ages,  even  like  the 
black  Voodoo  of  America,  had  it  clearly  before  him  all  the 
time  that  his  mission  or  business,  above  all  things,  was  to 
develop  an  indomitable  will  superior  to  that  of  men  or 
spirits.  Every  point  is  gained  by  force,  or  by  will  and 
penance.  In  real  sorcery  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  pact 
with  a  devil,  and  becoming  his  slave  after  a  time.  This  is 
a  purely  later- Roman  invention,  a  result  of  the  adoption 
of  the  mixture  of  Jewish  monotheism  and  Persian  dualism, 
which  formed  the  Catholic  Church.  In  Goethe's  "  Faust  " 
we  have  the  greatest  weakness,  and  an  extreme  confusion 
of  character.  The  conclusion  of  the  tale  is  contradictory 
or  absurd,  and  the  difficulty  is  solved  with  the  aid  of  a 
Deus  ex  machina.  The  hero  is  a  sorcerer,  and  there  is 
not  a  trace  of  true  sorcery  or  magianism  or  tremendous 
will  and  work  in  the  whole  drama.  Beautiful  things  are 
said  and  done,  but,  take  it  for  all  in  all,  it  is  a  grand  pro- 
menade which  leads  to  nothing.1 

In  the  Italian  legend,  brief  and  rude  as  it  is,  there 
appears  a  tremendous  power  worked  out  with  great  con- 
sistency. The  demon  or  spirit,  intent  on  causing  remorse 
or  despair  (ad  affretare  il  rimorso),  threatens  the  sorcerer 
with  terrible  maledictions.  And  these  words,  if  we  regard 

1  The  concluding  portion  of  this  chapter  is  taken  from  the  Italian  origi- 
nal paper  read  by  me  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  Italian  Folklore  Society  in 
the  Collegio  Romano,  Rome,  November  20,  1894. 


252  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

their  real  meaning  and  spirit,  have  never  been  surpassed 
in  any  poem. 

And  we  should  note  here  that  the  Italian  sorcerer  who 
subdues  the  devil  by  simple  will  and  pluck  is  no  Manfred 
or  Faust  drawn  from  the  religious  spirit  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  He  belongs  to  the  Etruscan  age,  or  to  that  of  the 
ancient  Magi ;  he  meets  malediction  with  malediction,  spell 
with  spell,  curse  with  curse,  injury  with  injury,  sarcasm 
and  jeer  with  the  same ;  he  insults  the  devil,  calling  him 
his  slave  : 

"  Perche  io  sono  di  te — molto  piu  maligno." 

Until  in  the  end  they  change  parts,  and  the  demon 
becomes  the  one  tormented.  Therefore  there  is  in  this 
legend,  with  all  its  rudeness,  a  conception  which  is  so 
grand,  as  regards  setting  forth  the  possible  power  of  man, 
and  the  eritis  sicut  deus  of  modern  science,  that  it  is 
in  unity  and  fulness  far  beyond  any  variant  of  the  same 
subject. 

That  this  is  of  great  antiquity  is  clear,  for  out  of  this 
enchanted  forest  of  Italian  witchcraft  and  mystical  sorcery 
there  never  yet  came  anything,  great  or  small,  which  was 
not  at  least  of  the  bronze,  if  not  of  the  neolithic  age. 

Truly,  when  the  chief  character  in  a  tradition  of  the 
old  Etruscan  land  bears  an  Etruscan  name,  or  that  of  a 
shadow  called  a  shadow,  we  may  well  conclude  that  it  is 
not  of  yesterda}'.  So  all  things  rise  and  bloom  and  pass 
away  here  on  this  earth  to  winter  and  decay,  and  are  as 
phantoms  which 

"Come  like  shadows,  so  depart." 

For  a  last  word,  "  Manfred  "  and  "  Faust "  are  only  works 
of  art,  intended  to  "  interest  "  or  amuse  or  charm  the  reader, 
and  as  such  they  are  great.  They  are  simply  dramas  or 
show-pieces,  which  also  give  a  high  idea  of  the  artistic 
skill  of  their  writers.  "  Intialo  "  sets  forth  the  great  idea 
of  the  true  sorcerer,  in  which  they  both  fail,  and  carries 


INTIALO  253 

it  out  logically  to  a  tremendous  triumph.  It  is  the  very 
quintessence  of  all  heresies,  and  of  the  first  great  heresy, 
eritis  sicut  deus. 

There  will  not  be  wanting  one  or  two  critics  of  the  low 
kind  who  take  their  hints  from  the  disavowals  of  the 
author  to  declare  that  his  book  is  just  what  it  is  not,  who 
will  write  that  I  think  I  have  discovered  a  better  poet  than 
Keats  in  Marietta  Pery,  and  a  far  greater  than  Goethe  or 
Byron  in  the  unknown  author  of  the  invocation  to  "  Intialo." 
But  all  that  I  truly  mean  is  that  the  former  is  nearer  to 
old  tradition,  and  more  succinct  than  the  English  bard — 
"  only  this  and  nothing  more  " — while  in  "  Intialo  "  we  have 
given,  as  no  one  ever  expressed  it,  the  true  ideal  of  the 
magician  who,  overcoming  all  qualms  of  conscience, 
whether  innate  or  suggested,  and  trampling  under  foot 
all  moral  human  conventions,  rises  to  will,  and  victory 
over  all  enemies,  especially  the  demons  of  the  threshold. 
As  a  poem,  I  no  more  claim  special  merit  for  it  than  I 
would  for  Marietta's;1  indeed,  to  the  very  considerable 
number  of  "  highly  cultivated  "  people  who  only  perceive 
poetry  in  form  and  style,  and  cannot  find  it  in  the  grandest 
conceptions  unless  they  are  elegantly  expressed,  what  I 
have  given  in  this  connection  will  not  appear  as  poetry 
at  all. 

1  These  references  to  Marietta  Pery  are  in  regard  to  a  certain  Italian 
poetess,  of  whose  work  I  originally  intended  to  give  specimens  in  this 
book,  but  which  were  omitted  as  want  of  space  did  not  permit  their  inser- 
tion. I  hope  to  include  them  in  another  volume  of  legends. — C.  G. 
LELAND. 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS 

THE    SPELL    OF    THE    MIRROR— THE    INVOCATION    TO 
CAIN — THE  WITCH-HISTORY   OF  CAIN   AND  ABEL 

"  Rusticus  in  Luna 
Quern  sarcina  deprimit  una, 
Monstrat  per  spinas 
Nulli  prodesse  rapinas." 

—ALEXANDER  NECKHAM,  A.D.  1157. 

THIS  is,  for  reasons  which  I  will  explain  anon,  one  of  the 
most  curious  traditions  which  have  been  preserved  by  the 
Tuscan  peasantry.  I  had  made  inquiry  whether  any  con- 
juring by  the  aid  of  a  mirror  existed — "only  this  and 
nothing  more" — when,  some  time  after,  I  received  the 
following : 

LA   SCONGIURAZIONE   DELLO   SPECCHIO. 

When  one  wishes  to  enchant  a  lover. 

"  Go  at  midnight  when  there  is  a  fine  full  moon,  and  take  a 
small  mirror,  which  must  be  kept  in  a  box  of  a  fine  red  colour, 
and  at  each  of  the  four  corners  of  the  box  put  a  candle  with  a 
pin,  or  with  a  pin  in  its  point,  and  observe  that  two  of  the  pins 
must  have  red  heads,  and  two  black,  and  form  a  cross,  and  note 
that  every  candle  must  have  two  tassels  hanging  from  it,  one 
red  and  one  black. 

"  And  within  the  box  first  of  all  put  a  good  layer  of  coarse 
salt,  and  form  on  the  salt  a  ring  or  wreath  of  incense,  and  in 
the  middle  of  this  a  cross  of  cummin,  and  above  all  put  the 
small  mirror.  Then  take  the  photograph  of  your  lover,  but 
not  the  real  photograph  but  the  negative,  because  it  must  be 
on  a  plate  of  glass  (lastra  di  vetro).  Then  take  some  hairs  of 

254 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  255 

the  lover  and  join  them  to  the  photograph  (sono  uniti  dalla 
parte  del  quore),  and  then  take  a  fine  sprig  of  rue. 

"  And  with  all  this  nicely  arranged  in  the  box,  take  a  boat 
and  sail  out  to  sea ;  and  if  a  woman  works  the  spell  she  must 
take  three  men  with  her  only,  and  if  a  man  three  women  and 
no  other  person.  And  they  must  go  forth  at  an  instant  when 
the  moon  shines  brightly  (risplende  bene)  on  the  mirror.  Then 
hold  the  left  hand  over  the  mirror,  and  hold  up  the  rue  with 
the  right.  Then  repeat  the  following  : * 

INCANTESIMO. 

"  Luna  !  Luna !  Luna  ! 
Tu  che  siei  tanto  bella ! 
E  nel  tuo  cerchio  rachiude 
Un  si  pessimo  sogetto 
Rachiude  Chaino  che  per  gelosia 
Uccise  il  proprio  fratello. 

"  Ed  io  che  per  la  gelosia 
Del  mio  amante  non  ho  potuto 
Ne  bere  e  ne  mangiare, 
Ne  colle  amiche 
Non  posso  conversare, 

10  Tamo  tanto,  tanto, 
E  non  sono  corrisposta, 
Quanto  Io  vorrei  e  per  la  sua 
La  sua  fredezza  io  ne  sono 

Tanto  gelosa  non  so  qual'  malarono 
Quale  malarono  io  commetterei, 
Vado  a  letto  non  passo  riposare, 
Mi  viene  visioni  che 

11  mio  amante  mi  debba  ingannare. 

"  Luna,  Luna,  mia  bella  Luna  ! 
Che  tanto  bella  siei  e  ben'  risplende, 
Ti  prego  volere  pregare  per  me 
Chaino  che  per  gelosia 

1  Such  incantations  are  intoned  or  chanted  in  a  very  peculiar  style,  so 
that  those  who  can  only  hear  the  sound  know  that  it  is  a  magic  spell. 
Therefore  they  must  be  expressed  very  accurately  to  the  letter.  It  may  be 
observed  that  there  is  a  contradiction  in  the  original  MS.,  which  here  speaks 
of  three  companions,  and  subsequently  of  two.  I  believe  the  latter  to  be 
correct. 


256  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Uccise  il  proprio  fratello, 

Ed  io  vorrei  pimire  il  mio  amante, 

Ma  non  farlo  morire 

Ma  pero  farlo  soffrire, 

Che  non  abbia  mai  bene 

Ne  giorno,  ne  notte, 

Non  possa  ne  bene  ne  mangiare. 

E  la  notte  non  possa  riposare, 

E  Chaino  col  suo  fascio, 

Suo  fascio,  di  pruini, 

II  mio  amante  dal  su'letto 

Puo  le  fare,  alzare 

E  alia  casa  mia 

Farlo  presto  ritornare ! 

"Chaino!  Chaino!  Chaino! 
Per  tre  volte  io  ti  chiamo. 
Ti  chiamo  ad  alta  voce, 
In  un  punto  dove  si  trova, 
Soltanto  che  cielo  e  aqua, 
E  le  due  mie  compagne. 

"  Chaino  !  per  la  gelosia 
Che  provarti  tu  per  il  tuo  fratello  ! 
Provo  io  per  il  mio  amante, 
E  vorrei  a  me  farlo  ritornare, 
Per  non  allontanarsi  mai  piu. 

"  Tu  che  dal  alto  del  cielo 
Tutto  vedi — questa  scatola 
E  bene  preparata  e  tutte  e  quattro 
Le  candele  o  accese,  tu  puoi  guardare, 
Puoi  guardare  questo  specchio, 
E  se  tre  parole  pronunzierai 
Tutti  i  pruini  che  ai 
NelP  fascio  delle  legne  che  adosso, 
Sempre  porti  potrai, 
Potrai  farli  passare 
Nel  corpo,  e  nel  cuore 
Del  mio  amante, 
Che  non  possa  dormire  e  sia 
Costretto  a  vestirsi, 
E  venire  a  casa  mia, 
Per  non  andarsene  mai  piu. 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  257 

"  Con  questo  ramo  di  ruta 
Lo  bagno  nel  mare, 
E  bagno  le  mie  due  compagne 
Che  pronunzlerrano  queste  parole 
Tale  [secondo  il  nome]  colla  ai  uta 
Di  Chaino  vai  dalla  tua  amante 
Per  non  lasciarla  mai  piii. 

"  Se  questa  grazia  mi  fai 
Fai  alzare  im  forte  vento, 
E  poi  spengere  le  candele. 
Chaino  !  Chaino  !  Chaino  !  " 


THE  INVOCATION. 

"  Moon  !  O  moon  !  O  moon  ! 
Thou  who  art  always  fair, 
Yet  boldest  in  thy  ring 
One  of  such  evil  name, 
Because  thou  boldest  Cain  ; 
Cain  who  from  jealousy 
His  own  born  brother  slew. 

"  I  too  through  jealousy 
Of  one  whom  I  still  love 
Can  neither  drink  nor  eat, 
Nor  even  talk  with  friends, 
I  love  so  much — so  much — 
Yet  am  not  loved  again 
As  I  would  fain  be  loved. 
Through  his  indifference  I 
So  jealous  have  become, 
I  do  not  know  what  sin 
I  would  not  now  commit ; 
I  cannot  sleep  at  night 
For  dreams  in  which  I  see 
Him  faithless  unto  me.. 

"  Moon,  moon,  O  beauteous  moon  ! 
As  thou  art  fair  and  bright, 
I  pray  thee,  pray  for  me ; 
Cain  who  from  jealousy 


258  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

Slew  his  own  brother  born, 
As  I  would  punish  well 
The  one  whom  I  yet  love, 
Yet  would  not  cause  his  death, 
So  may  he  suffer  thus  : 
May  suffering  be  his  lot 
By  day  as  in  the  night, 
May  he  not  eat  or  drink, 
Nor  may  he  sleep  at  night ! 

"  May  Cain  who  bears  the  bunch 
Upon  his  back,  of  thorns, 
Stand  by  my  lover's  bed, 
And  make  him  rise  from  sleep 
And  hasten  to  my  home. 

"  O  Cain  !  O  Cain  !  O  Cain  ! 
Three  times  I  call  to  thee, 
Call  with  my  loudest  voice, 
Just  as  I  find  myself 
Between  the  sea  and  sky, 
And  my  two  friends  with  me. 

"  Cain,  by  the  jealousy 
Which  once  thy  brother  caused, 
And  which  I  now  endure, 
For  him  whom  still  I  love, 
Make  love  return  to  me 
And  never  leave  me  more. 

"  Thou  who  from  heaven  on  high 
Seest  all  things,  here  behold 
This  casket  well  prepared  ! 
The  mystic  tapers  four 
All  lighted,  look  on  them  ! 
Then  in  this  mirror  look. 
Then  if  thou  wilt  but  speak 
Three  words — then  all  the  thorns 
Which  on  thy  back  thou  bear'st, 
All  in  a  bundle  bound, 
Will  pass  into  the  life, 
The  body  and  the  heart 
Of  him  whom  yet  I  love, 
So  that  he  sleep  no  more, 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  259 

And  be  compelled  to  rise, 
Compelled  to  clothe  himself, 
And  hasten  to  my  home, 
Never  to  leave  me  more. 

"  Now,  with  this  branch  of  rue, 
Which  I  dip  in  the  sea, 
I  sprinkle  both  my  friends, 
That  they  may  speak  these  words : 

That ,l  by  the  aid 

Of  Cain  shalt  seek  thy  love, 
And  never  leave  her  more. 

"  If  thou  wilt  grant  me  this, 
Cause  a  high  wind  to  blow, 
Extinguishing  the  lights. 
O  Cain  !  O  Cain  !  O  Cain  ! " 

Before  proceeding  further,  I  would  explain  that  the 
use  of  a  photograph,  which  must  be  a  negative  on  glass, 
instead  of  being,  as  was  suggested  to  me,  a  modern  inter- 
polation, is,  strangely  enough,  a  proof  of  the  antiquity  of 
the  rite.  In  the  old  time,  a  picture  or  portrait  painted  in 
transparent  colour  on  glass  was  held  up  to  the  moon  that 
its  rays  might  pass  through  it  and  enchant  the  subject. 
And  among  the  Romans,  when  one  had  a  portrait  of  any 
one  cut  on  diaphanous  stone,  it  was  used  in  the  same 
way.  I  had  in  my  possession  once  such  a  portrait-gem,2 
and  a  fine  needle-hole  had  been  bored  through  the  right 
eye  so  as  to  blind  the  original  of  the  likeness.  And  I  had 
a  friend  who  lived  in  Russia,  who  discovered  that  a  person 
who  hated  him  had  obtained  his  photograph,  and  pricked 
holes  with  a  very  fine  needle  in  the  eyes  to  blind  him. 
The  negative  of  a  photograph  on  glass  would  very  natu- 
rally occur  as  a  substitute  for  a  picture.  But  what  is 
most  important  is  that  this  mention  of  the  translucent 
negative  proves  fully  that  the  whole  ceremony,  in  its 

1  Here  the  name  of  the  lover'is  pronounced  by  the  friends. 

2  Now  in  possession  of  Mrs.  January  of  St.  Louis,  Missouri. 


26o  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

minutest  detail,  has  actually  been  preserved  to  this  day, 
and  that  the  incantation,  long  as  it  is,  exists  as  I  have 
given  it,  since  every  line  in  it  corresponds  to  the  rite. 
And  as  I  know  that  it  was  gathered  by  a  witch  and 
fortune-teller  among  others,  and  carefully  compared  and 
collated,  I  am  sure  that  it  is  authentic  and  traditional. 

Fifty  pages  are  devoted  by  the  Rev.  T.  Harley  in  his 
"  Moon  Lore  "  to  the  subject  of  the  Man  in  the  Moon,  and 
since  the  book  appeared  in  1885  there  have  been  great 
additions  to  the  subject.  This  human  being  is  declared 
by  myths  found  in  India,  and  especially  among  the 
Oriental  gypsies,  in  Ireland,  Borneo,  Greenland,  and 
South  America,  to  be  a  man  who  is  punished  by  im- 
prisonment above  for  incest  with  his  sister  the  sun.  As 
he  wanders  for  ever  over  the  heavens,  just  as  gypsies 
wander  on  earth,  they  claim  him  for  their  ancestor,  and 
declare  that  Zin-gan  (or  gypsy)  is  derived  from  two  words 
meaning  sun  and  moon.  Kant,  the  sun,  has  been  varied 
to  kan,  and  in  gypsy  the  moon  is  called  chone,  which  is 
also  t-chen,  chin,  or  sin.  But  the  point  lies  in  this,  that 
Cain  was  condemned  to  be  a  "  a  fugitive  and  a  vagabond 
in  the  earth,"  which  gives  much  apparent  strength  to  the 
idea  that  Cain,  whether  Shemitic  or  Aryan,  was,  for  a 
great  crime,  or  as  chief  of  sinners,  imprisoned  in  the  moon. 

This  sufferer,  in  different  legends,  has  been  represented 
as  a  Sabbath-breaker,  as  Judas  Iscariot,  as  Isaac,  and 
many  more  transgressors,  almost  always  with  a  bunch  or 
bush  of  thorns,  for  which  there  has  been  literally  no  real 
explanation  whatever.  This  I  will  now  investigate,  and, 
I  think,  clearly  explain. 

Dante  in  two  places  speaks  of  the  Man  in  the  Moon 
as  Cain,  and  as  if  it  were  a  very  popular  legend  (In- 
ferno, xx.  123): 

"  Ma  vienne  omai  che  gia  tiene  '1  confine 

D'ambedue  gli  emisperi,  e  tocca  1'onda 
Sotto  Sibilia,  Caino  e  le  spine 
E  gia  iernotte  fu  la  Luna  tonda." 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  261 

"  But  now  he  comes  who  doth  the  borders  hold 
Of  the  two  hemispheres,  and  drive  the  waves 
Under  the  sibyl,  Cain,  with  many  thorns. 
And  yesternight  the  moon  was  round  and  full  ; 
Take  care  that  it  may  never  do  thee  harm 
At  any  time  when  in  the  gloomy  wood." 

This  twentieth  canto  is  devoted  to  the  sorcerers  in 
hell,  and  ends  with  allusion  to  the  full  moon,  the  sibyl, 
and  Cain,  as  allied  to  witchcraft,  prediction,  and  sin. 
When  the  moon  is  full  it  is  also  "  high  tides  "  with  the 
witches,  now  as  of  yore  : 

"  Full  moon,  high  sea, 
Great  man  shall  thou  be  : 
Red  dawning,  cloudy  sky, 
Bloody  death  shall  thou  die." 

Dante  again  mentions  Cain  in  the  moon,  in  the  Paradise t 

ii.  50: 

"  Ma  ditemi,  che  con  li  segni  lui 
Dio  questo  corpo,  che  laggiuso  in  terra 
Fan  di  Cain  favoleggiare  altrui?" 

"  But  lell  me  now  whal  are  ihe  gloomy  marks 
Upon  Ihis  body,  which  down  there  on  earth 
Make  people  tell  so  many  talcs  of  Cain  ?  " 

To  which  Beatrice  replies  by  a  mysterious  physical 
explanation  of  the  phenomenon,  advising  him  to  take 
three  mirrors  and  observe  how  the  moon  is  reflected 
from  one  to  the  other,  and  that  in  this  manner  fae  formal 
principle,  or  first  creative  power,  passes  from  light  to 
darkness.  The  reader  will  here  remember  that  with  the 
witches  the  mirror  is  specially  devoted  to  conjuring  Cain. 

It  is  worth  noting  that  a  spechietto,  or  small  looking- 
glass,  was  specially  (Barretti)  "  a  little  mirror  placed  at 
the  bottom  of  a  jewel  casket." 

I  would  now  note  that  the  thorns  which  Cain  carries 
signify,  not  only  in  modern  Italian,  but  in  old  Roman 
sorcery,  the  sting  of  hatred  and  of  jealousy.  It  is  a  most 
apparent  and  natural  simile,  and  is  found  from  the  crown 
of  thorns  on  Christ  to  the  Voodoo  sorcery  in  Western 


262  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

America.  Miss  Mary  Owen  knew  a  black  girl  in  Mis- 
souri who,  as  a  proof  of  being  Christianised,  threw  away 
the  thorn  which  she  kept  as  a  fetish  to  injure  an  enemy. 
But  in  early  times  the  thorn  was  universally  known  as 
symbolical  of  sin,  just  as  Cain  was  regarded  as  the  first 
real  sinner.  Therefore  the  two  were  united.  Menzel  tells 
us  in  his  Christliche  Symbolik  (Part  I.  p.  206)  that  it  is  a 
legend  that  "  there  were  no  thorns  before  the  Fall ;  they 
first  grew  with  sin,  therefore  thorns  are  a  symbol  of  the 
sorrow  or  pain  which  came  from  sin."  Of  all  of  which 
there  is  a  mass  of  old  German  myths  and  legends,  which  I 
spare  the  reader,  for  I  have  endeavoured  in  this  comment  to 
avoid  useless  myth-mongering  in  order  to  clearly  set  forth 
the  connection  between  Cain,  his  thorns,  and  the  moon. 

That  the  conjuring  the  moon  with  a  mirror  is  very 
ancient  indeed  appears  from  the  legend  drawn  from 
classic  sources,  which  is  thus  set  forth  in  "  A  Pleasant 
Comedie  called  Summer's  Last  Will  and  Testament. 
Written  by  Thomas  Nash.  London,  1600"  : 

"  In  laying  thus  the  blame  upon  the  Moone 
Thou  imitat'st  subtill  Pythagoras, 
Who  what  he  would  the  People  should  beleeve, 
The  same  he  wrote  with  blood  upon  a  Glasse, 
And  turned  it  opposite  'gainst  the  New  Moone, 
Whose  Beames,  reflecting  on  it  with  full  force, 
Shew'd  all  those  lines  to  them  that  stood  behinde, 
Most  pleynly  writ  in  circle  of  the  Moone, 
And  then  he  said  :  '  Not  I,  but  the  newe  Moone 
Fair  Cynthia  persuades  you  this  and  that.'  " 

In  the  "  Clouds  "  of  Aristophanes  the  same  idea  is  made 
into  a  jest,  in  which  Strepsiades  thus  addresses  Socrates : 

"  Strepsiades.  If  I  were  to  buy  a  Thessalian  witch,  and  then  draw  down 
the  moon  by  night,  and  then  shut  her  up  in  a  round  helmet-case  like  a 
mirror,  and  then  keep  watching  her 

Socrates.  What  good  would  that  do  you,  then  ? 

Strepsiades.  What  !  If  the  moon  were  not  to  rise  any  more  anywhere,  I 
should  not  pay  the  interest. 

Socrates.  Because  what  ? 

Strepsiades.  Because  the  money  is  lent  on  interest." J 

1  "Moon  Lore,"  p.  152. 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  263 

These  instances  could  be  multiplied.  What  I  have 
given  are  enough  to  show  the  antiquity  of  the  conjuration ; 
and  I  also  venture  to  declare  that  any  Italian  scholar  who 
is  familiar  with  these  formulas  of  sorcery  will  admit  that, 
making  all  due  allowance  for  transmission  among  peasants, 
the  language,  or  words,  or  turns  of  expression  in  this 
incantation  denote  great  antiquity. 

The  next  paper  or  tradition  on  the  subject  of  Cain, 
which,  as  every  phrase  in  it  indicates,  was  taken  down 
from  an  old  dame  who  at  first  slowly  recalled  forgotten 
sentences,  will  be  to  many  more  interesting,  and  to  all 
much  more  amusing  than  the  first.  It  once  happened 
that  an  old  gypsy  in  England  began  to  tell  me  the  story 
of  the  ghostly  baker  of  Stonehenge  and  the  seven 
loaves,  but,  suddenly  pausing,  he  said :  "  What's  the  use 
of  telling  that  to  you  who  have  read  it  all  in  the  Bible  ?  " 
There  is,  however,  this  trifling  difference,  that  I  am  not 
sure  that  my  Italian  witch  friends  knew  that  Cain  and 
Abel  are  in  the  Bible  at  all.  The  Red  Indian  doctor, 
whose  knowledge  of  the  Old  Testament  was  limited  to  its 
being  good  to  cure  neuralgia,  was  far  beyond  the  con- 
tadini  as  regards  familiarity  with  "the  efficacy  of  the 
Scripture." 

This  is  the  witch-tale  as  written  word  by  word : 


ABELE  E  CHAINO. 

"They  were  two  brothers.  Abel  greatly  loved  Cain,  but 
Cain  did  not  love  so  much  the  brother  Abel. 

"  Cain  had  no  great  will  to  work. 

"Abel,  however,  on  the  contrary,  was  greatly  disposed  (si 
ingegnava)  to  labour,  because  he  had  found  it  profitable.  He 
was  industrious  in  all,  and  at  last  became  a  grazier  (mercante 
di  manzi). 

"  And  Cain  also,  being  moved  by  jealousy  (per  astia),  wished 
to  become  a  grazier,  but  the  wheel  did  not  turn  for  him  as  it 
did  for  Abel. 


264  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

"And  Cain  also  was  a  good  man,  and  set  himself  con- 
tentedly to  work,  believing  that  he  could  become  as  rich  as 
his  brother,  but  he  did  not  succeed  in  this,  for  which  reason 
he  became  so  envious  of  Abel  that  it  resulted  in  tremendous 
hate,  and  he  swore  to  be  revenged. 

"Cain  often  visited  his  brother,  and  once  said  to  him, 
'  Abel,  thou  art  rich  and  I  am  poor ;  give  me  the  half  of  thy 
wealth,  since  thou  wishest  me  so  well ! ' 

11  Then  Abel  replied  :  '  If  I  give  thee  a  sum  which  thou  thy- 
self couldst  gain  by  industry,  thou  shouldst  still  labour  as  I  do, 
and  I  will  give  thee  nothing,  since,  if  thou  wilt  work  as  I  do, 
thou  wilt  become  as  rich.' 

"  One  day  there  were  together  Cain,  Abel,  and  a  merchant, 
whose  name  I  forget.  And  one  told  that  he  had  seen  in  a 
dream  seven  fat  oxen  and  seven  lean.  And  the  merchant,  who 
was  an  astrologer  or  wizard,  explained  that  the  seven  fat  oxen 
meant  seven  years  of  abundance,  and  the  seven  lean  as  many 
years  of  famine. 

"And  so  it  came  to  pass  as  he  foretold — seven  years  of 
plenty  and  seven  of  famine. 

"  And  Cain,  hearing  this,  thought :  '  During  the  seven  years 
of  plenty  Abel  will  lay  by  a  great  store,  and  then  I  will  slay 
him,  and  possess  myself  of  all  his  goods,  and  thus  I  will  take 
care  of  myself,  and  my  brother  will  be  dead.' 

"  Now,  Cain  greatly  loved  God ;  he  was  good  towards  God, 
more  so  than  Abel,  because  Abel,  having  become  rich,  never 
spoke  more  unto  the  Lord;  and  Abel  would  gladly  have 
become  a  wizard  himself. 

"  Then  Cain  began  to  think  how  he  could  slay  Abel  and 
become  a  merchant  in  his  place,  and  so  went  forth  to  cut 
wood. 

"  One  day  he  called  his  brother  Abel,  and  said  to  him : 
'  Thou  art  so  rich,  while  I  am  poor,  and  all  my  work  avails 
me  little.'  And  with  that  he  gave  Abel  a  blow  with  a  knife, 
and  dressed  himself  in  his  garments,  and  took  a  bundle  of 
thorns  on  his  back,  and  thus  clad  he  took  Abel's  place  as 
merchant,  believing  that  no  one  would  recognise  him  as 
Cain. 

"  And  while  thus  buying  and  selling  he  met  the  merchant- 
wizard  who  had  foretold  the  seven  years  of  famine  and  of 
abundance.  And  he  said,  '  Oh,  good  day,  Abel,'  to  make  Cain 
believe  that  he  was  not  discovered.  But  the  oxen  who  were 
present  all  began  to  chant  in  chorus : 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  265 

"  '  Non  chiamate  questo,  Abele  ! 
E  Chaino,  non  lo  vedete, 
Per  la  gola  della  monete 
II  fratello  ammazato, 
E  dei  suoi  panni  e  vestito. 
O  Chaino  or  siei  chiamato 
Alia  presenza  del  gran  Dio, 
Che  a  morte  ti  'a  condannato 
Che  di  richezza  eri  assetato.' 

"'Do  not  call  that  person  Abel ; 
It  is  Cain,  do  you  not  see  it? 
Cain  who,  for  the  greed  of  money, 
Treacherously  slew  his  brother, 
And  then  clad  him  in  his  garments. 
Now,  O  Cain !  thou  wilt  be  summoned 
Speedily  unto  the  presence 
Of  the  Lord,  who  has  condemned  thee 
Unto  death  for  thy  great  avarice.' 

"  Cain  came  before  God. 

"  '  O  gran  Dio  di  clemenza 
Voi  che  siete  grande,  buono, 
Velo  chiedo  a  voi  perdone, 
Per  il  bene  vi  ho  valuto, 
Un  instante  vi  ho  dimenticato 
Ma  ne  sono  molto  pentito, 
Di  aver  ammazato 
Abele  il  fratello  mio.' 

"  '  O  great  God  of  endless  mercy, 
Thou  who  art  so  good  and  mighty, 
Grant,  I  pray  thee,  grant  me  pardon 
For  the  good  I  did  while  living  ! 
Truly  once,  but  for  an  instant, 
I  forgot  myself,  but  deeply 
I  since  then  have  long  repented 
That  I  slew  my  brother  Abel.' 

"  But  God  replied  : l 

"  A  punishment  thou  shalt  have  because  thou  didst  slay 
thy  brother  from  a  desire  to  become  rich.  Likewise  thou 
didst  meddle  with  witchcraft  and  sorceries,  as  did  thy  brother. 
And  Abel  made  much  money  and  was  very  rich,  because  he 
did  not  love  God,  but  sorcerers.  Albeit,  ever  good  he  never 

1  I  have  no  doubt  that  originally  all  the  spoken  parts  of  this  narrative 
were  sung. 


266  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

did  evil  things,  and  many  good,  wherefore  God  pardoned  him. 
But  thou  shalt  not  be  pardoned  because  thou  didst  imbrue  thy 
hands  in  human  blood,  and,  what  is  worse,  in  thy  own  brother's 
blood. 

"  The  punishment  which  I  inflict  is  this  : 

"  The  thorns l  which  thou  didst  put  upon  thy  brother  are 
now  for  thee. 

"Thou  shalt  be  imprisoned  in  the  moon,  and  from  that 
place  shalt  behold  the  good  and  the  evil  of  all  mankind. 

"  And  the  bundle  of  thorns  shall  never  leave  thee,  and  every 
time  when  any  one  shall  conjure  thee,  the  thorns  shall  sting 
thee  cruelly ;  they  shall  draw  thy  blood. 

"  And  thus  shalt  thou  be  compelled  to  do  that  which  shall 
be  required  of  thee  by  the  sorcerers  or  by  conjuring,  and  if  they 
ask  of  thee  that  which  thou  wilt  not  give,  then  the  thorns  shall 
goad  thee  until  the  sorceries  shall  cease." 

This  is  clearly  enough  no  common  popular  nursery 
tale,  such  as  make  up  collections  of  Tuscan  tales  or  popu- 
lar legends,  gathered  from  pious  or  picturesque  peasants. 
Through  it  all  runs  a  deep  current  of  dark  heresy,  the 
deliberate  contravention  of  accepted  Scripture,  and  chiefly 
the  spell  of  sorcery  and  deadly  witchcraft.  It  is  a  per- 
fect and  curious  specimen  of  a  kind  of  forbidden  literature 
which  was  common  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  which 
is  now  extremely  rare.  This  literature  or  lore  was  the 
predecessor  of  Protestantism,  and  was  the  rock  on  which 
it  was  based. 

There  have  always  been  in  the  world  since  time  began 
certain  good  people  whose  taste  or  fate  it  was  to  be 
invariably  on  the  wrong  side,  or  in  the  opposition ;  like 
the  Irishman  just  landed  from  a  ship  in  America,  who, 
being  asked  how  he  would  vote,  replied,  "Against  the 
Government,  of  course,  whatever  it  is,"  they  are  always 
at  war  with  the  powers  that  be.  With  Jupiter  they 
would  have  opposed  the  Titans ;  with  Prometheus,  Jupiter  ; 

1  Thorns  here  plainly  mean  suffering,  Fasio  di  prtdni  che  at  messo  al 
tuo  Jratello. 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  267 

as  early  Christians  they  would  have  rebelled  against  the 
Pagans,  and  as  heretics,  Orientalised  Templars,  Vaudois, 
illuminati,  sorcerers,  and  witches,  they  would  have  under- 
mined the  Church,  never  perceiving  that  its  system  or 
doctrine  was,  au  fond,  fetish,  like  their  own.  Among 
these  rebels  it  was  long  the  rule  to  regard  those  gods 
or  men  who  were  specially  reviled  by  their  foes  or 
oppressors  as  calumniated.  Even  Satan  was  to  them 
"  the  puir  deil ; "  according  to  the  Taborites,  an  oppressed 
elder  brother  of  Christ,  or  a  kind  of  Man  in  an  Iron  Mask 
kept  out  of  his  rights  by  Jehovah  the  XIV.  These  dis- 
contented ones  deified  all  who  had  been  devilled,  found 
out  that  Jezebel  had  been  a  femme  incomprise,  and  the 
Scarlet  Woman  only  an  interesting  highly-coloured  variant 
of  the  ancient  hoary  myth  of  Mademoiselle  or  Miss  Salina 
the  Innocent.  When  Judas  was  mentioned,  they  solemnly 
remarked  that  there  was  a  great  deal  to  be  said  on  both 
sides  of  that  question ;  while  others  believed  that  Ananias 
and  Sapphira  had  been  badly  sat  upon,  and  deserved  to 
be  worshipped  as  saints  of  appropriation — a  cult,  by  the 
way,  the  secret  observance  of  which  has  by  no  means 
died  out  at  the  present  day — several  great  men  being 
regarded  in  Paris  as  its  last  great  high  priests. 

The  Cainites,  as  known  by  that  name  to  the  Church, 
were  a  Gnostic  sect  of  the  second  century,  and  are  first 
mentioned  by  Irenseus,  who  connects  them  with  the  Val- 
entinians,  of  whom  I  thought  but  yesterday  when  I  saw 
in  a  church  a  sarcophagus  warranted  to  contain  the  corpse 
of  St.  Valentine.  They  believed  that  Cain  derived  his 
existence  from  the  supreme  power,  but  Abel  from  the 
inferior,  and  that  in  this  respect  he  was  the  first  of  a  line 
which  included  Esau,  Korah,  the  dwellers  in  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah,  the  worshippers  of  Ashtoreth-Mylitta,  or  the 
boundless  sensualists,  the  sorcerers,  and  witches. 

Considering  what  human  nature  is,  and  its  instincts  to 
opposition,  we  can  see  that  there  must  have  been  natu- 


268  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

rally  a  sect  who  regarded  Cain  as  a  misjudged  martyr. 
Abel  appeared  to  them  as  the  prosperous  well-to-do 
bourgeois,  high  in  favour  with  the  Lord,  a  man  with 
flocks,  while  Cain  was  a  tiller  of  the  ground,  a  poor 
peasant  out  of  favour.  It  must  be  admitted  that  in  the 
Book  of  Genesis,  in  the  history  of  the  first  murder,  we 
are  much  reminded  of  the  high  priest  Chalcas  in  La  Belle 
Helene,  where  he  exclaims,  "  Trop  de  fleurs  !  "  and  ex- 
presses a  preference  for  cattle.  It  is  the  old  story  of  the 
socialists  and  anarchists,  which  is  ever  new. 

The  witches  and  sorcerers  of  early  times  were  a  widely 
spread  class  who  had  retained  the  beliefs  and  traditions 
of  heathenism  with  all  its  license  and  romance  and  charm 
of  the  forbidden.  At  their  head  were  the  Promethean  Tem- 
plars, at  their  tail  all  the  ignorance  and  superstition  of  the 
time,  and  in  their  ranks  every  one  who  was  oppressed  or 
injured  either  by  the  nobility  or  the  Church.  They  were 
treated  with  indescribable  cruelty,  in  most  cases  worse 
than  beasts  of  burden,  for  they  were  outraged  in  all  their 
feelings,  not  at  intervals  for  punishment,  but  habitually 
by  custom,  and  they  revenged  themselves  by  secret  orgies 
and  fancied  devil-worship,  and  occult  ties,  and  stupendous 
sins,  or  what  they  fancied  were  such.  I  can  seriously 
conceive — what  no  writer  seems  to  have  considered— 
that  there  must  have  been  an  immense  satisfaction  in 
selling  or  giving  one's  self  to  the  devil,  or  to  any  power 
which  was  at  war  with  their  oppressors.  So  they  went  by 
night,  at  the  full  moon,  and  sacrificed  to  Diana,  or  "  later 
on  "  to  Satan,  and  danced  and  rebelled.  It  is  very  well 
worth  noting  that  we  have  all  our  accounts  of  sorcerers 
and  heretics  from  Catholic  priests,  who  had  every  earthly 
reason  for  misrepresenting  them,  and  did  so.  In  the  vast 
amount  of  ancient  witchcraft  still  surviving  in  Italy  there 
is  not  much  anti-Christianity,  but  a  great  deal  of  early 
heathenism.  Diana,  not  Satan,  is  still  the  real  head  of  the 
witches.  The  Italian  witch,  as  the  priest  Grillandus  said, 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  269 

stole  oil  to  make  a  love-charm.1  But  she  did  not,  and 
does  not  say,  as  he  declared,  in  doing  so,  "  I  renounce 
Christ."  There  the  priest  plainly  lied.  The  whole  history 
of  the  witch  mania  is  an  ecclesiastical  falsehood,  in  which 
such  lies  were  subtly  grafted  on  the  truth.  But  in  due 
time  the  Church,  and  the  Protestants  with  them,  created 
a  Satanic  witchcraft  of  their  own,  and  it  is  this  after- 
growth which  is  now  regarded  as  witchcraft  in  truth. 

Cain-worshippers  and  witches  seem  to  have  been  all 
in  the  same  boat.  I  think  it  very  likely  that  in  these  two 
traditions  which  I  have  given  we  have  a  remnant  of  the 
actual  literature  of  the  Cainites,  that  Gnostic-revived  and 
mystical  sect  of  the  Middle  Ages.  But  I  doubt  not  that 
its  true  origin  is  far  older  than  Christianity,  and  lost  in 
earliest  time. 

One  last  remark.  We  are  told  in  the  tale  that  Abel, 
having  become  rich,  "cut"  the  Lord,  or  would  speak 
to  him  no  longer.  I  suppose  that  he  dropped  the 
synagogue  and  Yom  kippur,  and  became  a  Reformirter> 
and  his  children  in  due  time  Goyim.  Also  that  he 
wanted  to  become  a  wizard,  which  may  be  a  hint  that  he 
was  "  no  conjuror."  But  it  is  seriously  a  proof  of  the 
narvete,  and  consequent  probable  antiquity  of  the  tale, 
that  these  details  are  not  "wrote  sarcastic,"  nor  intended 
for  humour.  And  it  is  also  interesting  to  observe  how 
impartially  the  narrator  declares  that  Cain  was  "  a  good 
man,"  and  how  he,  in  pleading  his  own  cause  before  the 
Lord,  insists  that  in  killing  Abel  he  only  inadvertently 
forgot  himself  for  an  instant.  One  almost  expects  to  hear 
him  promise  that  he  will  not  do  it  again. 

It  is  a  striking  proof  of  the  antiquity  of  this  tradition 

1  It  is  amusing  that  this  stealing  oil  wherewith  to  make  love-charms, 
which  was  denounced  so  bitterly  as  damnable  sorcery  at  one  time,  and 
frequently  punished  by  death,  i.e.,  by  burning  alive,  is  now  tacitly  encou- 
raged by  the  priests.  There  are  churches  about  Rome  in  which  the  oil  is 
placed  where  it  may  be  stolen  or  taken,  it  being  understood  that  a  soldo  or 
two  shall  be  left  to  pay  for  it. 


270  LEGENDS  OF  FLORENCE 

of  Cain,  as  I  have  given  it,  that  the  witch  or  wizard 
sympathy  for  the  first  murderer  is  in  it  unmistakable. 
The  sending  Cain  to  the  moon,  instead  of  hell,  is 
understood  to  be  a  mitigation  of  his  sentence.  In 
his  work  on  magicians  and  witches,  A.D.  1707,  Gold- 
schmidt  devotes  many  pages  to  set  forth  what  was  be- 
lieved by  all  the  learned  of  his  time,  that  Cain  was  the 
father  of  all  the  wizards,  and  his  children,  the  Cainites, 
the  creators  of  the  Gaber,  fire-idolators,  Cabiri,  magic 
soothsaying,  and  so  forth.  So  the  tradition  lived  on, 
utterly  forgotten  by  all  good  people,  and  yet  it  is  to  me 
so  quaint  as  to  be  almost  touching  to  find  it  still  existing, 
a  fragment  of  an  old  creed  outworn  here  among  poor 
witches  in  Florence. 

"  Sacher  Masoch,"  a  Galician  novelist,  informs  us  in  a 
romance,  "The  Legacy  of  Cain,"  that  the  Cainites  still 
exist  in  Russia,  and  that  their  religion  is  represented  by 
the  following  charming  creed  : 

"Satan  is  the  master  of  the  world;  therefore  it  is  a  sin  to 
belong  to  Church  or  State,  and  marriage  is  also  a  capital  sin. 
Six  things  constitute  the  legacy  of  Cain  :  Love,  Property, 
Government,  War,  and  Death.  Such  was  the  legacy  of  Cain, 
who  was  condemned  to  be  a  wanderer  and  a  fugitive  on  earth." 

I  have  another  apparently  very  ancient  conjuration  of  a 
mirror,  in  two  parts.  It  is  of  the  blackest  witchcraft,  of  the 
most  secret  kind,  and  is  only  intended  to  injure  an  enemy. 

From  an  article  in  La  Rivista  delle  Tradizione  Popolare 
of  July  1894,  by  F.  Montuori,  I  learn  that  in  a  little  work 
by  San  Prato  on  "  Cain  and  the  Thorns  according  to 
Dante  and  Popular  Tradition,"  Ancona,  1881,  which  I 
have  not  seen,  the  history  of  Cain  is  given  much  as  told 
by  Maddalena.  What  is  chiefly  interesting  in  the  version 
of  Maddalena  is,  however,  wanting  in  all  the  folklore  on 
the  subject  collected  by  others ;  it  is  the  manifest  trace  of 
Cainism,  of  sympathy  with  the  first  murder,  and  in  its 
heresy.  This  opens  for  us  a  far  wider  field  of  research 


CAIN  AND  HIS  WORSHIPPERS  271 

and  valuable  historical  information  than  the  rather  trivial 
fact  that  Cain  is  simply  the  Man  in  the  Moon. 

Merk  in  Die  Sitten  und  Gebrduche  der  Deutschen}  gives 
(p.  644),  from  Wolf,  a  strange  legend  which  is  nearly 
allied  to  Moon  worship  by  witches,  and  the  mirror : 

"  There  was  a  man  in  Kortryk  who  was  called  Klare  Mone 
(bright  moon),  and  he  got  his  name  from  this.  One  night 
when  sleeping  on  his  balcony  he  heard  many  women's  voices 
sweetly  singing.  They  held  goblets  [there  is  some  confusion 
here  with  gldserne  Pfannen  or  glass  panes  in  the  roof  from 
which  the  man  looked ;  I  infer  that  the  witches  drank  from 
"  glass  pans,"  i.e.,  metallic  mirrors],  and  as  they  drank  they 
sang  : 

"  '  We  are  drinking  ihe  sweetest  of  earthly  wine, 
For  we  drink  of  the  clear  and  bright  moonshine.' 

"  But  as  the  man  approached  them,  *  with  a  club  to  beat 
or  kill  them,  all  vanished.'  " 

"  Which  fable  teaches,"  as  the  wise  Flaxius  notes, 
"  what  indeed  this  whole  book  tends  to  show — that  few 
people  know  or  heed  what  witches  ever  really  were.  Now, 
that  this  boor  wished  to  slay  the  sorceresses  with  a  club, 
for  drinking  moonshine,  is  only  what  the  whole  world  is 
doing  to  all  who  have  different  ideas  from  ours  as  to  what 
constitutes  enjoyment.  So  in  all  history,  under  all  creeds, 
even  unto  this  day,  people  have  been  clubbed,  hung,  tor- 
tured, and  baked  alive,  or  sent  to  Coventry  for  the  crime 
of  drinking  moonshine  !  " 

And  so  this  volume  ends,  oh  reader  mine ! 

"So  the  visions  flee, 
So  the  dreams  depart ; 
And  the  sad  reality, 
Now  must  act  its  part." 
He,  lector  benevole, 
Ite,  missa  est. 


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Edinburgh  and  London 


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